• Skating
• Shooting
• Passing
• Physicality
• Ice conditions
• Equipment
• Cooperation in the spirit of the game

In order to return back to India for the entire Winter (December - March), The Hockey Founation is looking to raise at least $10,000, which will allow us to continue to pursue our goal of “sharing happiness & changing lives, one puck at a time,” and bring hockey to people in non-traditional/underserved regions of the world.

Donations of any amount will help show everyone around the world that hockey is truly a sport that has the power to change lives.  With that in mind, please ask your friends, family, contacts, teammates, etc. to check out The Hockey Foundation.

Stay tuned for more updates!

Adam

A DIVISION

• Thailand
• Malaysia
• Mongolia
• India

B DIVISION

• United Arab Emirates
• Hong Kong
• Singapore
• Macau

I assume the intention was to have the groups divided evenly in talent. I don’t know if that’s how it played out.

Our fate in this tournament was sealed long before we even set foot on the ice. There was going to be no Miracle. We weren’t going to pull together like Little Giants, Bad News Bears, or Mighty Ducks. We were going to get dominated. But we were going to do it gracefully.

If losing was inevitable (it was, there’s only so much determination that you can have, but if you’re over-matched, it’s that simple), we were going to make sure we skated hard every second of the game. We’d continue to huff and puff, and if we didn’t blow the house down, then we’d develop short-term memory loss and go out there and do it again.

If we get scored on and beat while playing our best hockey, doing everything we possibly could to win the game, constantly improving, then this would be an incredible achievement, and a great stepping stone for the India Ice Hockey program.

GAME 1: INDIA VS. THAILAND
The first game of the tournament was India vs. Thailand. Being the first international game for the guys, there’s no denying the tension that they’d feel. I felt it in high school hockey playoffs; they’re representing their country (although at the lowest internationally sanctioned hockey tournament, but still). They had to play on a rink nearly twice the size of what they’re accustomed to, with a flat ice surface, boards, and an opposing team that is big, strong and talented.

The night before, as I was reviewing the IIHF Rule Book with the captain of the team (I had read through the whole book on the flight to Dubai & bus ride to Abu Dhabi), the captain gave me his opinion on which goalie should start. After watching them in practice, I felt otherwise, and started the other goalie. He played pretty well. The first period went much better than I expected. I definitely think it helped that Akshay had arrived from his Europe business travel and came onto the bench (I had no assistant coach, as the one I wanted to join the team from Ladakh didn’t get his passport processed in time), speaking to the team in Hindi, the 2nd language for many of them, especially since I speak faster as I get more riled about during the game (only natural). He was able to communicate what I wanted them to do, in a way that was a little more understandable, and was a much cheerleader on the bench! Nonetheless, 3-0 by the end of the first.

First intermission was about staying focused, skate hard, check some people (they were obviously physically intimidated, which really just amounts to emotional intimidation), and stay in their positions. This would become the theme message of the entire tournament.

They were clearly overwhelmed, intoxicated by the experience, and were playing like they were drunk, stumbling around the rink, getting nervous, not doing anything that we had practiced or discussed repeatedly. 7-0 at the end of the second.

For no good reason, the other goalie decided to put himself into the game. I let that go, as it didn’t hurt to give him some early experience, as we were already down by a large margin. Unfortunately, he didn’t hold up very well. Final score, 14-0.

We did a lot of things wrong in this game, skating around the ice like headless chickens. We discussed this during and after the game, with Akshay providing additional translation and support. More than anything, it was the mental mistakes that were holding us back. Sometimes thinking too much is no different than not thinking enough, and no matter if they were completely clueless, or thinking about every little thing, they were not focused on staying in their position, checking the player with the puck, skating hard at all times, making short passes, not letting players behind them on defense, making line changes properly, or even lining up for the face-off properly.

Some of these things are more complex than others, but not by much. It’s not like these were strategies even, they were just general points. I can understand a fast player skating by you sometimes, but when they are a half a zone away, and you are attacking the guy with the puck, it’s inevitable on the first, second or thirtieth time that this player will just chip it forward to the guy waiting at the other end of the rink, ready to score on a breakaway. The learning curve wasn’t sloping upwards. If I can recall my trigonometry and calculus, this would be equal to zero, or infinity. I don’t know. I cheated my way through most of 11th & 12th grade math (pre-calculus, College Calculus, A.P. Calculus)…seriously. Whatever the mathematical value, they didn’t improve within the 1st game, but maybe that was from their jitters. Hopefully game 2 would be better.

GAME 2: INDIA VS. MONGOLIA
Just a few years ago, Mongolia was a struggling organization. They have definitely improved, but were by no means the best team in the tournament, more like bottom half. Their players had an air of cockiness though, which could be harnessed and make them better, or can get out of control, and hinder their growth.

The pre-game speech identified some of the keys to being successful on the ice, coming out like a group of gang-busters and skating as hard as they possible can, fore-checking the puck incessantly and maybe even use their shoulder pads a bit and throw a body check now and again.

I started our other goalie for this game (the one that forced his way onto the ice in the 3rd period of the 1st game). The guys came out like gangbusters, and skated hard throughout the game. They checked a decent amount, had a few scoring chances, and even changed lines much better. Overall, it was an incredible improvement in energy from them. If only they were able to manufacture a goal!

At one point, a reporter leaned over the glass to ask to do an interview, to which I responded, “How about after the game, I’m a bit busy coaching right now”.

Our goalie made some decent saves (and some weak ones), but when you are constantly being peppered with shots (picture Goldberg from The Mighty Ducks, when he’s tied to the posts and they fire shots at him endlessly…only to leave him tied to the net), you can’t help but let in a few. Or 10. Nonetheless, this was our best effort in the tournament. Final Score, 10-0.

Akshay helped with the translation again on the bench and in the locker room, and wished the team all the best, as he was heading back to India to take care of more business. He and I completed a couple of interviews with the press, and he was on his merry way. I wish he could’ve stayed throughout the tournament, because I definitely think the team responded well to him, especially since they understood what he was saying. His parting words (well, kind of), were to “speak slower”. In actuality, they were more like “good luck!”, but the speak slower was a key point in there, which I acknowledged, but in a manner typical of feedback, I had to give my side, which was totally legit: in my excitement of hockey, I lost focus on how to speak, and just said whatever came to mind, but I will definitely try to work on speed of speech.

The post-game speech was generally positive, lauding the hard work by the goal scorer, and the others that “threw the body” (checked people), but still addressing the need to stay focused, stay in position, and keep the shifts short and accurate. Minor details.

That night was unremarkable. The team stayed to watch the games, I went back to the hotel to do more work, and relax.

GAME 3: INDIA VS. MALAYSIA
With 2 games under our belt, with a vast improvement between the two, I was confident that the team would come out like gangbusters the next morning, and really work hard on the ice. And you know what? They did! They were fired up, and knew that if they played flat hockey like they did in Game 1, there was no way they could succeed.

I started our first goalie for this game (the one I started in the 1st game), trying to give them equal playing time. The team came out working hard, and some players really rose to the challenge of skating hard. As promised, if they worked hard, they’d get more playing time, if they didn’t, they’d sit. There is no star on the team, unfortunately, but the difference was pretty big between the better players and the incredibly poor players, including a few that not only couldn’t skate, but apparently couldn’t think either. A bad combination, to say the least.

The hard work from the previous game and this one paid off! In the second period, while shorthanded, one of our better players fore-checked hard in the offensive zone, pressuring the goalie, who had come out of the net to play the puck - as his defense was a bit lazy getting back into their zone. Our guy rushed hard from the left side of the zone (if you were on the ice, attacking), and the goalie shot the puck into his chest, which fortuitously bounced into the empty net.

It was a great moment.

I had always wondered whether I would be emotional when I’m not the one playing. As it is, from the time I was a teenager through today, when I score goals, I don’t celebrate very often. I followed the Brett Hull mantra of put your head down and skate back to the face-off circle (although there have been a few rare occasions of celebrations, but nothing evoking Ovechkin’s 50th). In this situation, with the India goal, I definitely did a fist pump with a cheer, and was elated for the team. It was hard work that got the goal, and while it wasn’t pretty, it was well earned. 4-1, End of First Period.

The rest of the game was pretty unremarkable though. The guys weren’t able to sustain the pressure as tightly, and were running all over the place in the defensive zone, allowing players to stand alone in front of the net (I wonder what will happen when that happens?), chasing them around the defensive zone (picture chasing chickens in a pen), and letting players get behind them while “defending” the neutral zone (between the blue lines). This resulted in a handful of scoring opportunities, which Malaysia capitalized on. Final score, 10-1.

INTERLUDE
After the game against Malaysia, they invited me out to dinner with the team, which I graciously accepted. I had noticed from the onset that their coach (a Canadian) was a bit distant with me, which may have something to do with the email I sent to the organization to offer my coaching services.

About that…

1. I had no idea what the coaching situation for the team was/is when I sent the email. Hence the inquiry email.
2. I was not soliciting to become the coach of the national program. Quite the contrary, I was offering to coach at any level, especially the kids. I definitely don’t want to step on any toes.
3. I don’t actually want to be the coach of any national team. The purpose of this program is to help anyone and everyone that is looking to grow their hockey program, imparting the values of the game and improving the lives of the players involved.

With that in mind, we went out and I tried my best to make conversation, showing that I’m not trying to steal his job. Naturally, we spoke about hockey. At one point, I was chatting with a group of his players, discussing some hockey from the tournament, in particular the game between Thailand and Malaysia from the evening before. This game was rough. Unnecessarily rough. When people don’t know hockey, the first question they inevitably ask is, “isn’t hockey violent?” My reaction is always the same, “No. Hockey’s physical, not violent,” which I view as a vital distinction. The point of checking is to get the puck, or to get someone off the puck and take them out of the play. Not to hit someone as hard as you can, which can cause injuries, and it did. That’s all I said. With the tag at the end, “…and you [pointing to an injured player] suffered because of it.”

Apparently I stepped over the line, because their coach got annoyed and responded with “I can coach my own team. The other guy got injured too.”

I don’t know about you, but in a moment of excitement of talking about hockey, and sharing sympathy for an injured player, I didn’t think I had done anything wrong. I knew the other player got injured too, which was my initial point. There were multiple injuries, with players being taken off the ice by stretcher because of the unnecessary roughness. I also didn’t tell them how to play hockey, which I would define as coaching.

To add to that, this is a friendly tournament, with players that are nowhere near NHL careers, and a little bit of hockey sense can go a long way.

Whether I was right or wrong, I fought through the awkward moment at the dinner table, attempting to uphold the values I hold so dear to the sport (accountability, honesty, selflessness) and apologized. Twice. To no avail. He pretty much disregarded the apology both times, and we didn’t speak to each other for the rest of the tournament.

Sorry to sour the moment.

But in some ways, it doesn’t get much better.

GAME 4: PLAYOFF ROUND: INDIA VS. SINGAPORE
Singapore is a good team with an interesting story. Their ice rink closed down, and although they got to practice once in the tiny rink that Malaysia uses inside a mall, they spent their whole time practicing inline hockey. And it worked!

Just a few years ago, they were also a struggling organization, but their coach/manager/president (an American) had improved their program, and they had some talented players, comparatively speaking, of course.

For India, this game was our low point. The first period was sloppy, in every way I’ve identified, and then some, and in the first intermission, I begged the team to focus, and listed to me (I was consciously speaking slower and clearer, with simpler words).

It is getting redundant to say this, and I wish I could give you better details, but this time they didn’t even come out hard, and got worse as the game progressed, making the same mistakes they had in the first three games: bad line changes , allowing forwards to stand alone in front of the net, not passing, not skating hard, letting forwards behind them, attacking the puck carrier when they are the “one” in a 2 or 3-on-1, and still didn’t line up in the right spot for face-offs.

In the second period, they continued to make terrible mistakes, at one point getting a too-many-men penalty because one of the players made the executive decision to go on the ice even though I told each line who was going out next, by calling out their line number, and patting them on the back, and reiterating it many times, all game long. He didn’t even come back when we (mostly I) started yelling.

I had one player skate a 3 minute shift, after I called him off multiple times when he was near the bench.

That was it for me. I’d had enough. Time for a new strategy.

It was only 5-0 at the end of the 2nd period, mostly because of our goalie, but also because of some missed opportunities for Singapore. I was sure they would score more in the 3rd, so I went into the locker room with a very different mentality.

This is practically verbatim:

“OK. Since you guys aren’t listening to anything I say, there’s no point in me talking and coaching. I am not saying a word next period. You figure out your lines, you figure out when to go out, since you already do it on your own. Good luck,” and walked out of the locker room.

I spent the whole period in the corner of the bench, watching the game, and what I saw was even more disheartening. Singapore let up.

They spent the 19 of the 20 minutes of the 3rd period (yes, I counted), passing the puck around in our defensive zone. They had multiple “scoring opportunities”, including break-aways, but didn’t take a single shot.

Within 30 seconds of the period starting, I even told the coach to keep it coming, because there was a lesson in humility and hard work that needed to be learned by Team India, but they didn’t shoot.

There are a couple of conflicting opinions about this. The selfish opinion (not for me or India) is that Singapore has very little opportunity to get a chance to be so dominant, and work on passing for such a long time. It’s actually a very good puck control and power-play drill (even though we were not short-handed if you count the players on the ice), and a great opportunity. I don’t believe that was the motivation, but I could be wrong.

On the other hand, I have always been of the belief - and from discussions, I know I’m not alone - that you play the game, no matter what. If you are better, then you score more goals. If you are worse, then you get scored on. That’s the spirit of the game. It’s more insulting to do anything to the contrary, as it shows a lack of respect for your competitor. To an educated fan, player, coach or official, it is dishonorable and says “I think so low of your ability that I’m just going to play around.”

I was upset that they did this, but it was just another teaching point for the team. A point that some comprehended, and others could never. Final (official) score, 5-0 (should’ve been 15-0).

I reported back to Akshay with the score, after he emailed me hearing a rumor that we won. When I told him that we won 5-0, I added the disclaimer that while it may be important for the public to see the improvement in score (buh-bye to that theory), he shouldn’t feel proud about it, due to the circumstances.

GAME 5: RELEGATION GAME: INDIA VS. MACAU
I had hope for this game, playing against the 2nd worst team in the tournament (no disrespect intended, but the scoreboard proved it). I thought we could at least score a few more goals and prevent a disaster. Unfortunately, that would not be the case. The team looked defeated the moment they went onto the ice. I tried a different strategy, not only returning to positive reinforcement, but once again appealing to their pride and determination.

That failed. We got shut out by the 2nd worst team. Final score, 8-0.

The Finals were UAE vs. Thailand, definitely a quality match. UAE went through Hong Kong to get there, but only because the rounds were structured in a way that prevented the higher ranking teams in the division to play the lower ranking teams, i.e. 1 played 2 and 3 played 4 in the first round for each division.

Thailand came out with the lead, but their poor passing and defense got the best of them. UAE, which had an abundance of passing, as well as a talented goalie, kept sustained pressure, and capitalized on mistakes, coming from behind with 2 quick goals in the middle of the 3rd period. With a massive crowd in attendance (and manufactured cheering, with officials in the stands leading chants), and an empty net goal to seal their fate, they defeated Thailand 5-3.

The Thai Ambassador to the UAE and a high ranking Sheikh of the UAE were both in attendance.

FINAL THOUGHTS
During the tournament, a few things became clear:

• Abu Dhabi Tourism went above and beyond - possibly setting the gold standard - as the host. They provided buses, cars (mostly new Audi sedans), and the hotel (a 5 star***** Hilton) complementary. Their staff was pretty accommodating, although they had to be prodded a little bit to get your way (or maybe just my way), and outside of some communication issues, really did a great job.
• The Abu Dhabi team had an unfair advantage of practicing every morning, while the other teams only had 1 practice. I know they were the host team, and it’s a (relatively) friendly tournament, but that’s a bit unfair.
• The best teams were far and away better than their competition. Teams like Thailand, Hong Kong, UAE, and Malaysia (to an extent) were much better than Mongolia, Macau, Mongolia, and India.
• It will be difficult to continue this tournament if the future organizers don’t meet the standards of the UAE. The costs that they covered were tremendous for developing organizations like India, and could leave out the teams trying to improve at the game.
• There apparently was a meeting that discussed setting minimum competency to compete in this tournament. This is concerning on a few fronts. 1) I was never notified of the meeting, if it took place. 2) This tournament is developmental at best, with no official IIHF standing other than a stamp of recognition (more or less), until it is connected to the Div III championship. 3) It singles out teams like India, which is no different than the other teams in the tournament just a few years ago. Who knows if this actually happened, but if it did, it’s in poor taste all around.
• If the Indian hockey system (at all participatory levels) stays at the current level, there will be no chance of India becoming competitive in hockey. That being said, if the government is more receptive to supporting the program, and the people that are currently on the front lines in Northwestern India change their attitudes and behaviors, there is potential for the program to greatly improve and succeed. Will it happen? I am trying to make it so, and I truly hope it does, but I need help, from within, and from everyone in the hockey community. I consider hockey to be the finest example of an international sport, and it will get better as the lower level teams improve, especially with the support of the better countries and hockey lovers around the world. Scratch that, you don’t need to love hockey, just love how important it is to the people involved in the game, and help share happiness through hockey!

IIHF Article on the Tournament

http://www.iihf.com/home-of-hockey/news/news-singleview/hash/b023a754ac/article/uae-wins-challenge-cup-of-asia/187.html

That mission statement is not independent of hockey, though. In many ways, it is essential to becoming a better hockey player. If you play the game (now or in the past) at any competitive level, you have probably come across a player that just irks you when he (I’m going to use the masculine form, because I’m a guy, and that’s 98% of the players I play against) is on the ice, on the bench, or in the locker room. He exudes an attitude that makes you hate playing with or against him. What makes matters worse is that he has skills.

I’m not sure if I would like to believe that this only exists in my home region, Long Island, NY. On one side, I’d like to believe that the rest of North America has less entitlement issues, and teach better manners to their children, reinforcing that there’s hope elsewhere, and it’s just a small community of these types of players.

On the other side, I know that there are people all over that disrespect the game and those around them when they behave in ways that counter the sport: cockiness, overt aggression (especially in non-checking leagues), taunting, and selfish play. While we’d like to believe our habitat is either the best or worst place in the world (we are a people that think in extremes), this seems to be the case everywhere.

The reason I write about this now, is that what bothers me the most is that these players could’ve gone so much farther in the sport (even as professionals), if they just upheld the values of the game. Their skills on the ice become enhanced when those around them respect the player. They’ll pass more to the player (and expect some passes back), they’ll defend their teammate more (and expect that treatment back, too), and the opposition will end up playing more evenly against this player, not too aggressive, not too passive.

Case in point, Sean Avery. The guy has had more than enough troubles with his teams because of his character. Even before he got dumped by the Dallas Stars due to his “sloppy seconds” comment (I was hysterically laughing when I heard that, just so you are aware), he wasn’t resigned by the Rangers due to personality conflict. I can tell you that after some discussions I’ve had with some “tough-guy” NHL’ers is that even some of them were a bit wary of Avery. He’s the type of player that is crazy enough to make you play crazy around him, and it can easily result in someone getting severely injured. The guy is a fast and talented player, and as long as he can keep his cool (to a certain extent, he is an agitator, and a damn good one at that!); he can really thrive in the NHL.

I wanted to instill this in the Indian (Ladakhi) team as best I could. It is more important to play with high character, than to just go through the motions. It may sound simple, but you need to truly understand the game before you can truly succeed, and part of that success is having mental strength.

Without mental toughness, it’s easy to lose focus. When you get scored on, or you can’t score goals, you start to feel hopeless and overpowered. When you get checked hard, the inevitable bruises can feel like a muscle strains/ligament sprains (tears). Physical intimidation overwhelms your performance on the ice.

Since the Indian team had never played in an arena, or against international teams (the Canadian High Commission team DOES NOT count), or with real checking, I knew it was going to be more important than ever to strengthen their mental toughness.

But what about the technical skills? What about their familiarity with an international rink? What about reinforcing their team-play (i.e. passing, covering open areas in the rink, or power-play & penalty-kill situations). What do we focus on?

There was only so much time available to me for our one and only practice the day before the tournament began. Akshay requested that we receive 2 hours of practice time, as opposed to the 60-90 minutes that other teams received, and the organizers agreed due to our circumstances.

They also agreed to supply our team with some proper equipment, as many of the guys were missing elbow pads, among many other articles of equipment. 1-2 weeks prior to our arrival, I had a serious of email conversations with the organizers, after Akshay had gotten them to agree to provide equipment. When we arrived to our locker room, there were huge boxes filled with 10+ sets of used equipment that local players allowed us to borrow.

What an act of hospitality! This was the type of environment that I was excited to have the team participate in, more about camaraderie and support, than about raw, ruthless competition.

Wrongly, I assumed that the pro-shop in Abu Dhabi would be cheaper than the equipment available in India. It was more expensive! A basic wood stick cost the equivalent of US$100 ($30 in the U.S.), and an average, 2+ year old composite stick was $275 ($75-100 in the U.S.). I told the team to hold off buying any of the equipment there, until I could find a better alternative. What I did demand was that they sharpen skates, but as practice was starting in a few minutes, only a handful could do it before we stepped onto the ice, the rest would have to wait until afterwards.

It was the first time I had stepped onto an artificial surface in over 2 months, or any sheet of ice in over 1 month. But just like riding a bike, you get your senses back quickly. Hockey players can attest to this, your feet develop their own set of senses when you’re on the ice. Every minute detail is conveyed and stored through a 1 cm tall piece of steel, and some plastic, leather and cotton (if you’re fancy, include graphite, Kevlar, or other nifty synthetics).

This ice was not great, and neither was the skate sharpening I received. I pitched way too forward, more than I usually do, and cut into the ice way too easily. I can only imagine how this felt to guys only used to skating on the surfaces available in Ladakh, whether it is a rink with potholes, speed bumps, or shards of broken ice. As I gave a last inspection to their skates, I noticed that many of them had about 1/4 cm of steel left. What this translates to is that every time they will try to turn, the plastic of the blade holder will hit the ice, and they’ll lose their feet from beneath them.

Falling aside, I began practice with some casual skating around the whole rink. In between the blue lines (neutral zone) they’d skate at full speed, and skate normally in the attack zones. Apparently this was too complicated. Even though I had them follow me, players would skate in the wrong direction in the attack zone.

At that point, I knew we were going to have problems. I tried to do a few more full ice skating drills, just so they can get acquainted with the size of the surface, and the ways it feels, and even after a brief demonstration and translation, they still were making the simplest of mistakes.

Now I started to get annoyed.

As I have probably stated a few times, a player said to me on the very first day of training in Ladakh that, “we’re not basic.” While they didn’t fully convince me otherwise, I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt and increase the difficulty of the drills, if only mildly. This was in Ladakh, where I left without full confidence in their abilities, but left them with a practice plan nonetheless, hoping to see a noticeable improvement when we reconvened.

Now that we were back together, it was clear that while I was away, they didn’t practice as much as I had hoped, or they just weren’t learning the basics as fast as I had expected. This, combined with a major lack in critical thinking and the politicking that went into the team selection, as outlined in the prior post, were already proving to me that this was going to be a disaster on the ice.

Now, I know it’s important to exude confidence, trust, and belief in others, coupled with positive reinforcement. And believe me, I tried that. Many times. Even before the tournament started, I had many bouts of over-confidence, believing that the team was well capable of greatly improving. They were simple drills. Why couldn’t they do them?

Over time, the plan changed from positive reinforcement (“You’re representing your home, and I believe you can prove to everyone that your passion will succeed on the ice”) to frustration (“C on! This is easy. Kids can do these drills.”) to begging (“I need you to pay attention to me. If you can’t pay attention to me when I try to teach you, there’s no way you will be able to succeed in a game situation”).

There’s a point about the mental toughness that I think needs to be stated, as it’s been on my mind for quite some time now. I’ve had the opportunity (if you want to call it that) to take not only a stroll, but a sprint and a marathon (or a speed skate) down memory lane, in regards to my own life on and off the ice.

On the ice, there were many times that I lacked the mental toughness to take me farther in the game. I’d like to believe that wasn’t the case, but I’d just be lying to myself, and to you by extension. I can recall training sessions where I’d get a migraine, which I’m sure was in my head (literally and figuratively). I had coaches that in retrospect were trying to make me tougher, and I balked at the occasion. I didn’t even like to compete against other players, when I probably had as much talent as them.

This begs a few questions. First and foremost, have I grown? Have I changed? Am I mentally strong now? I guess I can’t really answer that; I can only analyze it years down the road or get outside consulting. I’d like to believe I am. I know I’m more aware, but to what extent?

Also, more relevant to the team, am I just passing along my past (repressed?) frustrations out them? Am I actually doing things that make them tougher mentally, or am I just giving them a hard time? On this point, it’s an emphatic: NO. I am not taking out my frustrations on them. In all of my pre-tournament practices and off-ice sessions, I utilized many different strategies. I made it a point early on, to suffer if they suffered. I spoke frankly, and honestly, but I also pleaded for the most out of them, and explained everything I could. I was diplomatic with them, begging for their feedback, especially from their leaders, and tried to act with as much humility as I could. They are the team, not me. I argued with anyone that tried to say I was more important (it happened), because at the end of the day, I will be on the bench, the rest of them will be on the ice, and there’s no paycheck or contract to even prove I did anything. And I tried to remind the team of that. Even as the tournament progresses, you’ll find that I try to change my strategy as much as possible, as I find that what I’m doing didn’t work.

Practice continued difficultly. We ended up doing some basic drills, with the plan of moving through each drill every 10-15 minutes, at most. At one point, I attempted to explain to the team how to do a basic 3-on-0 drill, skating down the rink, passing to one another. I have been told that I speak fast, and it’s an acknowledged fault (not really a fault, but for a team that barely speaks English, I can see how that would be tough), but I’ve still tried to use simple words. In particular, before the drill even started, I instructed the team to line up in three lines; one in the middle, and one in each corner. I pointed, spoke with simple words “Line up here, here and here,” and then had it translated. Apparently this was way too complicated, and by the time 30 seconds had passed and they were standing around, fuddling, I lined them up to do a skating drill. This time around, it was their own fault, and I wasn’t skating for their lack of attention. They may have had altitude to their advantage, but there’s nothing more tiring than skating up and down an ice rink, over and over again. Either way, they needed it, as it was another reminder of just how big the rink is. Again, I pleaded with them to pay attention and work hard (a common theme in this practice) and after a dismal failure in the 3-on-0 drill, we proceeded into our breakout-fore-check drill.

The drill was a combination of two drills we had already done incessantly in Ladakh. In the breakout drill, the center dumps the puck into the corner. The defense retrieves the puck (or the goalie saves it, if he’s not paying attention and the shot comes on net), and then make a pass behind the net. This pass is not something I wanted set in stone, but they ended up doing it that way almost every time. The purpose of the pass to the defensive partner was to get used to using your teammate and also familiarize the players with getting into positions that would support each other.

As that was going on, the forwards would come into the zone, and get ready for the pass from the defense. The wingers would come to the face-off circles along the boards, and the center would come down low, near his net. Depending on which way the puck would go, the center would criss-cross with the strong side winger. This is not necessarily what every team would do in hockey, but it was simple enough for them to do, and was just advanced enough to help them get the puck out of the zone effectively.

The pass could go to any player, but preferably the center on the strong side, as he will be in the least vulnerable position. He’d make a short pass to his teammate, follow his pass, and the puck carrier would go to his proper wing. Now begins the fore-check.

The moment the puck carrier crossed the red line (center line), they were instructed to dump the puck into the opposite corner (the zone they are attacking). This is called “dump and chase”. The premise is quite simple, dump the puck in the corner in two ways, 1) shoot it lightly behind the goal line, but in a spot where the puck dies, and sits right by where you shot it, or 2) shoot it a bit harder along the side boards so that it rings around the rink, just hard enough to make it to the other side without the goalie stopping it in the process. From there, you chase after the puck like you are running from the police, hence the phrase. If you weren’t huffing and puffing after the drill, you weren’t skating hard enough.

I’m not the biggest fan of a dump and chase strategy, but there was a method to the madness. When the team did their SWOT Analysis is Ladakh, we agreed that their stamina would be a major strength, as their lungs were used to the lack of oxygen (about that…didn’t help so much!), and I had hoped their training would make them even more prepared for intense skating. Also, since they weren’t great puck-handlers or passers, the only option left to get any offensive pressure was to shoot the puck in, and then skate after it hard.

One forward would go after the player with the puck, the 2nd forward would go after the puck itself, and the 3rd player would hover around the top of the offensive zone, analyzing the situation and going where he thinks the puck is about to go, or attacking the moment the puck gets there. If the puck does move to another player on the opposing team, then the 3rd & 2nd players would apply the pressure, and the 1st would drop back.

This can be highly effective, especially if you play at a level where players aren’t used to such intense pressure. It was our own “shock and awe” strategy.

Picture how this goes. I shoot the puck into my defensive zone, my defense retrieves it, exchanges it, passes back to me. I pass to my winger, who dumps it into the corner. He and the other winger go after the puck, as I stay high watching the play carefully. It’s not only the 3 of us vs. the 2 defenders; our defenders that passed the puck out of our zone have now joined us. It’s 5-on-2.

This is an impossible situation, as the minimum number of skaters allowed on the ice for any given team is 3, even if you get 10 players in the penalty box. That means that the offensive team should have no difficulty scoring, let alone retrieving the puck from the defense. It should be the type of scenario where the defensive team is so over-matched, that they just want to start hitting people out of frustration.

That wasn’t the case for us. For the first 5-10 attempts, the defense cleared the puck successfully, and that’s when we got the puck into the zone properly. What this signified was that they weren’t skating hard. They weren’t giving 100% of their energy and effort, because if they were, that puck would be taken away within seconds of it going into the zone.

We ended up doing this drill for over 45 minutes, executing it properly less than 5 times in total. For a bunch of guys that weren’t basic, they sure weren’t understanding or executing an essential component to the game, breaking out of the defensive zone, and attacking the offensive zone.

At this point, I was traveling independently of the team. I had arrived to the rink earlier than the team to watch some of the other teams practice, which proved to be irrelevant, as scouting the opposition wouldn’t help us in any way. I spoke with the guys, and then let them go on their merry way.

For me, I had to stay at the rink for a meeting with all of the team officials. It was actually pretty interesting, as we reviewed the basic rules of the tournament, discussed some jersey colors, and checked the passports to make sure all players were proper citizens of their respective teams. I had to check Thailand, which if you didn’t know, they have one of the most complex languages in the world, and one of the hardest to pronunciate, especially for language-stunted Americans.

Some Examples (these are not any of the players’ last names): Nathabhakdi, Punyaratabandhu, Sadhanabongse, Simnkim

$5 to anyone that pronounces all of these properly and submits them to me through email

Interesting fact: Thais do not have the same last name, the way Americans/Canadians/British have Smith, Brown, Jones; Chinese have Wang, Li, Yi; the Indians have Kumar, Patel, Gandhi. It is actually part of recent Thai law (1913, I believe), that each family must have a unique surname, which can be registered with a bureaucracy that handles allocation. The newer immigrants tend to have longer names, as the shorter ones have already been claimed.

Snap back to reality.

The most interesting point came from the gentleman (originally from New Jersey) running/coaching/managing the Singapore association (their ice rink closed, the team had to practice through inline hockey), requesting that the Challenge Cup of Asia become a qualifying tournament for IIHF Division III (lowest level) World Championships. As of now, it’s nothing more than a development tournament, and this would increase legitimacy to the tournament, and provide it with greater strength for future success. I thought it was a great idea, and I hope it gets ratified.

Once the meeting was over, I left for the hotel on my own, leaving the manager in charge of the team. There were cars available for officials and coaches, and buses for the teams, and staying consistent with my philosophy, I wanted the team to be independent minded.

Still, later that evening in the hotel, the players asked me if they could go out to dinner that night. “You’re adults,” I responded with a chuckle, “of course you can, do whatever you want!”

“Make sure you’re all up early for breakfast, we have the first game tomorrow.”

There is no more that I can talk about leading up to the puck drop, so I guarantee you, the next post will be about the games!

There were a few major reasons why I made this decision (from least to most important). I wanted to ensure that the team manager from the Ladakh Winter Sports Club was actively involved in managing the team during this trip, and didn’t just take this as a vacation to the UAE. As the coach, my primary job is to worry about the team on the ice and support what they’re doing off the ice, if it’s related to hockey (although when you move up in ranks, there are usually trainers and managers and assistant coaches that do things like that, but we’re not exactly the Montreal Canadiens here…maybe I should pick a winner…but we’re not exactly the Detroit Red Wings here). Of course, I care about how they behave and conduct themselves at all times, and would love to instruct each and every person on how they should carry themselves.

Just imagine it! A world according to Adam, where everyone is single, plays hockey for 12 hours a day, drinks massive quantities of expensive tea, The Beatles play on satellite speakers orbiting the Earth, and the utopia that is the Star Trek universe becomes a reality.

Did I just admit to all of that?!

Coming back to reality…the point is that I can’t be the team parent, especially since some players are 10-20 years older than me. With that in mind, I have made more than enough references to the way of life in Ladakh, and suffice it to say that they have a lot of development needed, in particular when it comes to analytical thinking and mental toughness.

Above all else, this was my primary motivation.

If, when all is said and done, these guys truly broadened their horizons, took some initiative, developed some toughness and determination, and maybe even learned some new things about life, then I can walk away elated. My experiences with them in Ladakh proved that this was not only important to their development as citizens of Earth, but also essential to their success in hockey.

I decided, though, that I would stay somewhat close to the captain and one of the goalies from the team, as they were the ones I used as team liaisons and translators. It was also important for them in their own hockey development, as this reaffirmed their leadership roles, and gave them a greater understanding of their responsibilities.

In the airport, I left the group mostly on their own to figure out how to get through. Out of 21 players on the team (a typical hockey roster can carry as many as 20 players, including the goalies, but one army player got added in because of politicking done by the army commander responsible for the team), nearly every single one of them had never left India before, save for 1 or 2. I wanted to see how they handled being fish out of water, as it was going to be a recurring theme over the upcoming week.

I waited for 15 minutes as they unloaded luggage off the bus and arranged themselves in groups of 4-6, based upon the reservation ticket. My ticket had 3 players, including the goalie that I kept in contact with, and even that was difficult.

I decided then that I couldn’t budge, this was going to be about personal development first. It was the only way to succeed. The impaired education system in Ladakh was now rearing its head, and I was going to prove to them how important intelligence and critical thinking was, on the ice, and off.

I wouldn’t have any reason to talk about a flight, if it was normal, but it wasn’t. The team was booked on a budget Middle Eastern airline, which is not a concern to me, as the funds are and were very limited. Prior to the team arriving in Delhi for the press conference and departure, the other military branch’s administration played hardball with the Ice Hockey Association of India, and ended up getting their flights paid for by the association as part of their condition for participating on the team, whereas the rest of the players either got funding, paid out of pocket, or had their division pay for the flight.

This infuriated me. I try my best to talk about character, and the ideals that the sport upholds, and this went against all of it. As it is, it’s an honor and a privilege for these players to be on the team, as the only thing it does is boost their potential for better careers, better positions, and ultimately better lives. That should have no value! Plus, any branch of the Indian military has enough money to pay for 6 players to participate in an ice hockey tournament. I don’t need to be an accountant to know that much.

I said it then when I found out about this, and I reiterate this point now, I would rather not have those players on the team at all if that’s how it’s going to be. I don’t believe any of them were involved in what transpired, but they were the bargaining tools in this power struggle, and the only body that looses is the hockey team. A precedent of selfishness had been set, and now I had another battle to fight, reintroducing selflessness and teamwork.

Because of this ongoing negotiation, the rest of the team had been booked in economy class. By the time an agreement had been reached, economy had been sold out, so those players were confirmed in business class, along with the manager. I was booked in coach.

There’s two tangents I need to take here. This situation happened to me once before. When I went to China, Angela and I flew coach on a 13 hour flight. It was brutal. I held a grudge for a long time about that, because it seemed like a terrible way to treat employees that were traveling to the opposite side of the world to help others. The least you could do was get them there comfortably, especially when the cost was a speck on the organization’s operating budget.

When I was scheduled to return to China, something that never happened for me, I was again booked in coach, whereas my director at the time was booked in business class. This really ticked me off (apparently, it still does!), as it again showed a cheapness and lack of respect for people trying to help others, and I was a bit vocal about my disdain. For me, that was the beginning of the end.

In regards to this trip, the situation is entirely different, and while I wasn’t offended about being in coach for a few hours, I wasn’t thrilled about it either, considering the circumstances that led to some of the team (and the manager) being booked in business class (he was late with his passport, so it delayed his booking as well). I made sure that when I got to the airport, I would get myself upgraded, and I did. For free. I don’t know which player, if any, got sent to coach as a result, but I do know that a handful of players, including the manager, sat in business class.

The budget flight flew into Dubai, which is not Abu Dhabi. Two and a half hours later, we arrived at our gorgeous hotel, tired (we were a few hours behind Indian time), and starving. Checking in was a nightmare, as the team would hover every once in a while, confusing everyone trying to check us in, myself included. There weren’t enough rooms booked for the team, but the hotel graciously gave me the single I required, as I wanted to make sure I was free of distractions and disturbances from the team, and force them to take some responsibility for themselves, manager included. I didn’t tell anyone where my room was, even when they asked.

My last act of babysitting was getting dinner for the team. One of the local volunteers drove me to a popular Middle Eastern restaurant (I love Middle Eastern food, but then again, I love food from everywhere!), something I had requested to enhance the culture shock for the team. I went alone, even after the goalie volunteering (rather, requested) to join. I declined. I ordered a massive hummus platter and falafel sandwiches for everyone, and arrived back at the hotel around 1:30am.

They were noticeably not thrilled with my food selection, which made it all the more important. They were in a foreign country, and they needed to be tolerant and understanding of the culture of that country, as they are the guests. Since they haven’t traveled outside India (and maybe even if they had), this was not a natural philosophy for them. Not everyone ate, and some looked upset that they had to pay, but that was also part of the arrangement that everyone was notified of, with ample time to protest, drop out, or raise the funds required.

It was the last time I’d arrange anything for the team. It was up to them now.

The next morning, we’d have our first and only practice prior to the tournament officially starting, and it’d be the first time that they’d skate on an international rink, let alone an indoor one.

What type of practice would you plan?

I want to take a moment to step back a little bit to say thank you. As I was reflecting on this experience, and what transpired in whole with the team, I made sure to stick to a plan that I believed in, develop mental toughness, character, responsibility, teamwork, and foster critical thinking. In times of frustration and stress, I felt that maybe I wasn’t focusing enough on developing skills, and that we’d fare better if I had (is this too much foreshadowing?), but it felt wrong to think that way.

It was only after a conversation with my mother, that I was reminded that this is exactly why I set out to do this mission, and it’s exactly what I said I’d do. One of my earliest posts (Who I am and why do I love hockey?) describes why I love hockey (redundant), and why I believe it’s more than just the best sport on Earth, but a powerful tool for improving the lives of people around the world.

As I got caught up in the heat of the moment, I forgot that mantra, even while living by it, and my mother, so often my conscience, reminded me of that exact point, single-handedly reassuring me that I’d kept my promise to myself, and the people that donated, while staying true to and honoring the game.

So thank you, Mom. I love you.

I thought this post was going to be about the tournament, but after seeing how much I wrote about the pre-cursors, the post on the tournament will come next.

• All money donated by a person to “The Hockey Volunteer” is only used for hockey related expenses, whether it be providing/shipping equipment to communities, training expenses, necessary gear, general expenses when volunteering
• Personally donated money will never be used for administrative expenses, whether it be a business computer, office rent, etc.
• Sponsorships, Foundation grants, and corporate donations will be the source of operating expenses, although excess revenue from these sources can also be for use on missions around the world
• Tourism expenses not relating to a particular mission fall under my own personal budget, not that of the individual donors

ALL of these practices are what responsible organizations already do, and I just wanted to reiterate them to you.

I hope this helps.

New post is already under construction!

Adam

Upon my return to Delhi, I made sure that I could go to Dehra Dun to visit the arena under construction. This was scheduled as part of a two week trip around Northern India, combining work with pleasure. I had spent a few nights at an amazing riverside camp up river from Rishikesh (where the Beatles went in 67 when the wrote the “White Album”), where I stayed in a gorgeous tent with a friendly staff and delicious food. While I was there, I did a small mountain hike, and some great river rafting/kayaking. If you’re interested in this camp, please contact me and I can put you in touch with the company!

[NOTE: This report on the rink is my actual report to the Ice Hockey Association of India. Being that everything I have written has been personal and from my experiences, with the explicit interest of helping the development of ice hockey in India, I see no reason why this should be censored, as all it can do is put pressure on those in charge to do the right thing for all]

When I arrive at the rink, a few things struck me immediately. 1) That the rink was significantly out of the way of the middle of the town/city, and 2) it is well behind in construction based upon the schedule I was aware of and expecting.

The structure is clearly the outline of an arena, and from what it looks like, the surface itself is going to be constructed beautifully. At least, that’s what it looks like on the outside. There is clearly an inefficiency surrounding the construction that is not only slowing down the speed of the construction – which will raise costs of the rink – but it may also hinder the quality of the construction, which could have drastic effects on the usability of the rink.

The importance of not only doing this rink sufficiently, but doing it perfectly, can not be understated. Being the first international-standard ice hockey rink in India, a lot of money will be wasted if the system interferes. Concurrently, this is the opportunity for India to propel itself onto the global “rink” (as opposed to stage), alongside Asian countries like China, Japan and Kazakhstan. If all goes smoothly (figuratively and literally – e.g. the maintenance of the surface), there is no reason why India can’t become a major player on the global hockey scene. The first step is a quality ice rink.

I have additional questions and concerns about the rink. Immediately upon entering, I was told that the foyer will have a circular rink for children. There are a few issues with this. 1) A rink in an entrance will be susceptible to outside weather, and ice and air conditions will be incredibly difficult to manage, making hockey conditions very difficult as a result. 2) A circular rink is not appropriate for hockey at any age, even toddlers. The shape of the rink must be a rounded-rectangle, or it is useless for hockey. The rink could be useful for children even if it’s 1/3 the size of a standard international rink (60m X 30m), as long as it’s rectangular (with rounded corners). 3) If this rink is taking up such a large chunk of a small entrance-way, I am curious where there will be room for a skate rental office, a pro shop, and a snack bar? These are essential to a successful and profitable ice arena, as they are going to be major sources of income, as well as provide the public with temporary/permanent equipment to utilize, and food/beverages to occupy their time in the facility.

On the other end of the rink, there are locker rooms under construction. I am curious how many locker rooms are planned on the architectural drawings. I couldn’t tell if there were 2 or more, but it is essential that an arena being used by the public have at least 4 changing rooms with ample space. With 2 changing rooms, the teams from the following game will not be able to change until the teams from the current games are done. That leads to massive delays in the schedule, and a lot of wasted time after the ice-resurfacer has driven off the rink. That equals a lot of lost revenue!

While I am confident the cooling system has been expertly built by the Canadian firm, I am not confident that the building itself is being constructed properly. An ice rink needs to have a very consistent and carefully controlled atmosphere. Part of the indoor weather relies upon the construction of the building itself. Since heat rises, then there must be a proper cooling, air-conditioning, and de-humidifying system. There must also be proper insulation in the roof and walls, as well as tightly constructed walls and roof. If this gets completed improperly, not only will you have an inconsistent ice surface, which will greatly hinder on-ice performance and stunt the efficiency of growth and enjoyment of ice hockey in India, it will become exponentially more expensive to operate the facility over time. This is basic revenue and expenses…and ultimately, profits!

In regards to these major issues, I am curious what equipment is installed to manage the air and humidity, and what is on order? I have seen the cooling tanks for the surface, but this is not enough to maintain ice in an arena. Additionally, an ice-resurfacer (aka Zamboni) is required. This machine is a major investment, and should be handled as such. They are expensive, and quality is of the utmost importance, as maintenance for a used vehicle is a major expense in North America, let alone India. From my understanding, a Zamboni has not been purchased, and there has been minimal work done by the parties responsible for overseeing rink construction/maintenance/management to secure one. This will require major involvement from the government, which has also been neglecting the project.

I understand the financial situation for the Uttarakhand government is grim, but there is a general apathy that has been taking place from almost all aspects regarding the arena. The managers overseeing construction have not put enough pressure on the contractors to properly construct the building in a timely manner. Additionally, the standards for construction are not adhering to international requirements. To have Indians with no experience in ice arenas offering their expertise, when Canadians are contributing their “two-cents” to the project, is unjustified. I would defer to almost any Canadian 95% of the time, by the inherent fact that they have seen hundreds of arenas through all different stages of operation. There are no Indian experts in ice rink construction, and to behave in a manner that suggests otherwise is doing a dis-service to the sport, and to India.

There are also concerns that there is not only enough money to manage the facility when it opens, but not enough money to finish construction properly. As identified earlier, this would effectively nullify the whole purpose of an ice rink. The arena must be completed to the fullest extent, or the whole project has been an utter waste of money. Wherever the funding comes from, it needs to happen soon, and with full commitment.

Once the facility opens, it needs to open completely. There is no point in operating a rink for 5-8 hours in a day. A successful ice arena can stay open for nearly 20 hours with fully booked ice slots. I understand that this is India, and ice hockey is barely played in this country, but my mission is to not only fill the ice slots with full bookings, but generate such buzz around this new wonder in Dehra Dun, that there’s a wait list!

The state (AND national) governments need to invest in this facility, because the investment will pay off in the long term! As hockey grows in India, new markets will open up. Wealthier families in Northern India and in Delhi will come to participate in ice hockey. Tourists will also start to flock to a country that can add one more point to its long list of incredible features. This is a program that every department within the government can reap benefits from. Obviously, the sports ministries should be doing everything they can to make this rink a success, but there should be as much interest and support from the tourism ministry, as this rink can become the hub of hockey around Asia, including Russia and China! The health department should contribute to ensure proper treatment for injuries, and assurances of safety for the timid. The education department should offer incentives to students that excel in hockey to provide better education to them, as smart hockey players become better hockey players! The transportation department should offer express shuttle service to the arena (I understand there will be a bus route, it should be promoted!) so that players from town centers and those coming by train can make it to the arena quickly and efficiently. The ministry that handles human services and welfare can provide hockey to the poor, and give them an opportunity to grow in a sometimes restrictive and difficult culture. All of these recommendations can provide a combination of revenue, goodwill, and good public relations, all important when trying to operate an administration.

This is the argument I want to present not only to the Uttarakhand government, or the national government, but to the Jammu and Kashmir government, as well as to administrations around India. Ice hockey is a sport that

What is better than playing hockey in the world’s largest democracy, with such welcoming and friendly and passionate people as Indians! Right now, this is a Ladakhi sport, and if this rink doesn’t get completed and managed properly, it will remain a Ladakhi sport.

[NOTE: I wrote this the 1st time I left Ladakh, not knowing I would return less than a week later. I decided against posting it until I finished all of my posts regarding Ladakh. It has barely been edited since I originally wrote it, and only discusses some of the events that went down on my first tour. Since I discussed everything from my return trip already, there’s no need to delve back into that. Anyway, enjoy.]

I’m not one that’s known to form attachments – to people, to places (other than New York City), or to things in general (other than the internet). Hockey is among the few exceptions, but as I observed the inverse of a majestic landing into Leh, an overwhelming tidal wave of emotion dragged me under the surf. (I wanted to come up with a hockey analogy there, but the comparison escapes me.)

My face flushed like I had been in the sun, as it had a handful of times during my taxi ride from SECMOL through the desert and winding, mountain road to the airport in Leh.

Leh, Ladakh, Jammu & Kashmir, India has become a permanent part of my life. There is no doubt in my mind about that. With some modest calculations, it became clear that my 4 weeks in Ladakh is the 5^th longest tenure of mine in any particular region of the world (in order, the top four are New York, Buffalo, Florida, Montreal), and the only one not in North America. (Since that time, Delhi has surpassed Montreal, as I’ve spent 2 weeks in Delhi to date)

Our fates, in many ways, will rely upon our commitment to each other, and our cooperation in our committment to the sport of hockey.

This is an area with incredible natural beauty, a unique blend of religion – in particular Buddhism, tantric Buddhism even – a people that invited me in, and in way that are a bit uncommon for such a newcomer/foreigner who doesn’t speak the language.

Many Asian cultures live by a “saving face” code. That means they care more about looking good interpersonally and not offending others. To offend someone’s reputation in Asia is the equivalent of blatantly stealing someone’s life savings at gun-point in the West. For foreigners, it’s very rare to see the true colors of someone from Asia. There is no doubt that India is a unique country as compared the rest of Asia, and they interpret “saving face” and honesty differently from some of their neighbors, but Ladakh, while technically part of the subcontinent, is a hybrid of Asian cultures (Ladakhi, Tibetan, Kashmiri, Zanskari, Indian) and is not exempt from this attitude.

For some odd reason – or maybe it was all part of the plan – I became entangled in the local hockey culture in more ways than I knew were possible. In the process, I became an ex-officio member of the Ladakh Winter Sports Club; I had no say, could only make recommendations, but was also privy to a fair amount of information, as well as complaints.

Normally, when we hear complaints in the Western World, we feel the infectious nature of the negative energy, like a contagious virus. “Energy” may seem too metaphysical to be scientific, but Buddhism embraces the balance between both, and so do I.

When people come to New York City, you invariably hear that there is a penetrating “energy” that makes the city special. Everything makes up this energy – the people, the buildings, the companies, the arts, the sports, etc. This is why I love New York City. It’s why I consider it the greatest place on earth. As of yet, there is no greater positive energy I have experienced in a particular location, no matter how beautiful, or how clean.

The negative energy stemming from the complaints, as well as actions, of the LWSC members took a toll on me for a few days, but (there is a bright side) as always, it’s very easy to see the good from all of this.

The members were upset at the dramatic events from the National Tournament, starting with the match fixing, then stone throwing, then game protesting, then game boycotting, and finally, when resolution of the issues seemed apparent, protesting the decision. In some ways, they are a part of the problem, but the endearing part of this is that they want to improve. They constantly confided in me how betrayed they felt by what happened - the unsportsmanlike nature of it, but also their personal sacrifices. They sought avenues to remedy the problem in the future, and hopefully they will attempt to prevent these things from happening again.

Their disgust in the action of privileged adults reaffirmed their dedication to impressionable children.

Weighing the evidence I was aware of from all sides, I am happy to continue to work with the LWSC, as long as they retain some degree of idealism and uphold the value of the sport so many people around the world love: ice hockey. My primary mission as “The Hockey Volunteer” is to help everyone that wants to grow through the sport, and I will continue to do so as long as the main organizers are not interfering with the game and/or imposing their personal agendas onto the game.

Ladakh, not just Leh, has won the right of my return for another year, and we can once again trade the gifts that each can provide.

We owe it to each other.

Ladakh is like a Manhattan cocktail…the tall, dark, attractive alcoholic beverage.

Think about it, the ingredients for a Manhattan (traditionally) are:
• Rye
• Sweet red vermouth
• Dash Angostura bitters
• Maraschino cherry (Garnish)

When I look at these ingredients, my first instinct is to back away slowly. Rye is not the friendliest of whiskeys, with a more peppery and dry taste, and vermouth is the equivalent of drinking vomit, in my humble opinion. If that isn’t nauseating enough, add in some bitters for good measure. And just when you thought you had the drink figured out, it goes and surprises you with a cherry on top. Somehow it comes out tasting refined, distinguished, and well put together.

The comparison to Ladakh is like this:
[taking a deep breath]
You arrive in Ladakh with grandeur, as you well know, weaving in and out of the mountains. You step out into a tiny airport, with minimal amenities, but you ignore them. You then get harassed by a handful of taxi drivers shouting in Ladakhi, but you’re OK with that, because they’re taxi drivers. You arrive in Leh, and it’s dirty. Garbage is everywhere, which usually includes raw sewage. You don’t mind the people walking everywhere in the streets like a bunch of headless chickens, but are more concerned about the wounded canines, the fattened bovines, and the subtle asses (the donkeys). The people show you one face in public, and another in private, souring your impression of them. Nonetheless, they’re friendly and hospitable, and marked with an interesting history and culture, that in many ways appears timeless, or rather static.

When you analyze any of these ingredients that make up Ladakh, you find that the cocktail is made with ingredients that don’t seem too appealing, yet when all combined, they make up something unique, and even addictive.

Ladakh has a way of overtaking you. It has obvious drawbacks, like the lack of running, hot water, heated/insulated buildings or western toilets, among the other mentioned characteristics, yet somehow that’s what you love about it. That’s the addiction. Rarely would you consume the individual ingredients of a Manhattan, but when they’re shaken (not stirred) together, you learn to not only appreciate and enjoy it fully, but you learn to love every component.

For your information, I’ve never consumed Manhattan before, but all this talk of one has made me interested.

As a secondary note, not to get too side-tracked, ‘s apparently an episode of Sex in the City that mentions the cocktail. Episode 90, last scene. I’ve never seen it. I swear.

We now return to our regularly scheduled hockey blog…

Not even a week after leaving Ladakh, I was back on a plane heading to Leh. This time, my mission was even more focused: train the Indian ice hockey team and prepare them for the 2009 IIHF Challenge Cup of Asia in Abu Dhabi, the capital of the United Arab Emirates.

It was a bit surreal, stepping off the plane after that incredible descent, retracing all of my steps. The first time around, I was lost, confused, and naive. Now I was entirely prepared, comfortable, and a hell of a lot more knowledgable about Ladakhi culture (although by no means an expert). Getting through the airport was quick, although my luggage wasn’t, and I was able to instruct my taxi driver where to take me, although the price was not to my liking. This time around, though, I wasn’t staying at SECMOL. The experience was very unique there, but since it was a major diversion in the opposite direction of Leh. My training would be focused strictly in the immediate area around Leh, and if I had my way, at the rink within the town.

That was my first point of business. After I dropped off my bags at the guest house I had previously stayed (where Tashi Angchok lives), I walked the 2km back into the center of town and to the office of the Ladakh Winter Sports Club. With obvious awareness to the difference in situations, importance, and ego, I felt a bit like General MacArthur upon his return to the Philippines during WWII. I wanted to come to the rescue of hockey in Ladakh - and India as an extension - and I felt like a hero just by returning. But like all ego trips, that only lasted for about a day.

The following day, practice began at Karzu/Karzoo (you choose) ice rink, located somewhat in the center of Leh, if you could geographically figure such a thing out in a town with chaotic roads and scattered hills. The rink is on a pond that is submerged in comparison to the road that encircles it, with stone walls about 6-7 feet high surrounding the full rink. In a few spots, there are some major hazards, in particular, the stairway when entering the rink, which would be partially submerged under thin ice (I punched through at the bottom and had a freezing foot), and the corner of the rink where the running water would enter the pond. This constant stream of water collected and made it nearly impossible for that section of the pond to freeze, which then broke down the stability of the entire rink at time.

We agreed to start practice at approximately 8:00 am so that the ice would be as firm as possible, and we could get off in time for the children’s clinic that was being run by my friend and resident of Ladakh, Henk, which began at 10:00 am.

Henk held this clinic for 15 days, donating his own time as a volunteer coach, teaching children between the ages of 5 and 15 (approximately). It was an extraordinary sight to see, all of these kids on the ice, day in, day out, and I’m positive his instruction was invaluable to everyone on the ice! I look forward to coaching some of these kids as well, as the Indian ice hockey program develops.

In terms of the India ice hockey team, we began day one a little late, with one of the military groups being delayed through no fault of their own. My policy for team practices was that any time players were late, they had to do “suicides”, which would reinforce their determination to arrive on time, something that’s not as common in Ladakhi (or Indian) culture.

For your reference, “suicide” is a skating drill that is fantastically exhausting. You start on the goal line, at one of the ends of the rink, and proceed to skate to the nearest blue line. Then stop, and skate back to the goal line and stop. You’re not done. Now do this to the red line, in the center of the rink, then back to the goal line. Tired yet? Too bad. Skate to the far blue line and back this time. Do you need some water? You can’t have any. Not until you proceed to skate to the opposite goal line, at the far end of the rink, and return to where you started. Ok, feel free to get some air now. Only problem is that you’re skating at an altitude of nearly 12,000 feet (3,300 meters), and the oxygen in the air is scarce.

When you live at low altitudes, you can’t comprehend what that means, but I can assure you that when your lungs are gasping for every last bit of available air, you learn very quickly the seriousness and intensity of high altitude training.

The clincher to the “suicide” drill is that there was an additional caveat to what happened when I made them do the drill: I had to do it too.

I always hated the drill when I training as a teeneger. I think the term came about because half way through the drill, you start to consider suicide as a better option than skating. At some point, the brilliant idea came to me that I should punish myself when I punish them, being that I’m responsible for the team as their coach. Since Indians and Ladakhis have a (slightly) greater level of respect and reverance for the person in charge, especially since half of my team is from the military, I figured I would add extra motivation to prevent them from screwing up if they saw me suffer as well. Let me assure you, I suffered.

Even though I agreed that the players had a good reason for being late that first day, I still made them skate, and kept my word by skating with them. I thought I was going to die.

Five minutes later, when blood finally returned to my brain, we began with some of the basic drills that we had done prior to my first departure from Ladakh. They had not really improved.

Happy Adam quickly stepped aside, and made way for frustrated Adam. (I’ll use 3rd person sparingly). After my first day working with the team the first time around, a group of player told me, “we’re not basic”. I placated them at the time and told them, “I o, but we need to start from scratch”. Unfortunately, in regards to hockey skills and understanding, they were and are basic. I hoped that with the foundation I was providing, that they’d have improved at least mildly to this point in time, and have a greater understanding of the game, but I was proven wrong.

The team couldn’t do the basics that we had worked on initially, 2-on-0, 2-on-1, etc. They were still unable to skate strong, pass accurately, or shoot to a spot on the net of their choosing, that is, if they were able to hit the net. For ten days, I watched them miss the net from 10 feet away. For ten days, they lined up improperly for faceoffs. For ten days, players would collide into each other in a drill that explicitly explained who went in front, who went behind. For ten days, shots would go out of the rink, and nobody bothered to get them (we only had 6-8 pucks to practice with!). For ten days, players shot at the net when the goalie wasn’t looking, often hitting him in a tender spot. For ten days, players would screw up simple tasks for 45 minutes, even after it was explained to them in English and Ladakhi…TEN times! For ten days, I ended up yelling way more than I am comfortable doing.

That’s not to say we didn’t have fun and didn’t improve, but I was dealing with a team that was not contributing the attention, effort and brain-power required to be a successful hockey team. I wasn’t seeing the determination and character that a national hockey team should have. At the same time, what could I expect? These guys were in a tough position. For years, they had been playing a style of hockey unique to their corner of the world. They didn’t know anything otherwise. Then the best players got selected to represent their country in an international competition. How would you feel? Proud, maybe even cocky? How about equally scared and insecure? Add in an international coach that is more talented than you (there’s no other way to put it) and is obviously not happy with your progress, and you can include embarassment and shame to the list.

I tried to counter-act that with on-ice games, like skating, passing and shooting competitions (the losers did suicides, including myself…again), and humility on my part. The only reason I went back to Ladakh was to help them get better. They are the team. They are the ones representing their region and their country. I’m not even getting paid! My disappointement was an expression of what I felt they owed to each other and those they were playing for.

I wanted to borrowed Miracle from SECMOL so that I could not only familiarize the team with the incredible and inspiring story of the 1980 US Olympic team, but also show them the potential parallels if we could band together and prove everyone wrong. Also, this was the first opportunity for them to watch people play hockey. Even though it’s a movie, it’s possibly the best hockey movie in regards to the hcoeky skills on display (if not the best hockey movie overall…don’t attack me for that!).

Speaking of SECMOL…whatever my frustration at the level of performance out of the team during the week and a half of practice, multiply that by another ten when it came to SECMOL. If you can recall from the first time around, the SECMOL players were passive in how they approached attending the 3-day clinic, and although it wasn’t entirely their fault at that time, they showed early signs of not having the mental toughness and passion required to represent their country. This time around, things were no different.

My announced return came only 2-3 days before I arrived. I won’t say that’s an eternity, but it’s certainly enough time for word to spread. I am confident that the Ladakh Winter Sports Club DID NOT reach out to the SECMOL players, and they kept up their rhetoric regarding the SECMOL players not reaching out to them. Other than that, how would they know I was coming back? I give them a pass on that one, but not to the LWSC. After day one of practice, there were some announcements on the local news regarding the team. At that point, SECMOL was assured practice was on, and I received a call that night. In my chat, I instructed the two players to be ready for the army bus at 7:00 am, to ensure they would all arrive on time, and was guaranteed that would be the case. The next morning, no SECMOL players.

Obviously, I was annoyed. These guys were hurting the chemistry of the team by not being there, and insulted the work that was being put into developing the program. I received a call 3/4 of the way through practice, in the middle of running a drill, notifying me that one player didn’t come because he couldn’t get out of work…at SECMOL. He was responsible for teaching a class that day on campus, and didn’t have enough time (from the previous evening) to reschedule it. If he really wanted to, he could have…I’m positive of that. In response to his last minute decision not to go, the other player decided he wasn’t going either, as he would have to walk 3km (1.5 miles) to the road, at dawn, and await the arrival of the army bus. Since nobody communicated any of this to myself or the army players, they were left waiting for 20 minutes for players that never showed.

I called SECMOL a few hours later, and discussed the importance of showing up, to which the response was that since the players couldn’t afford to pay to participate, they didn’t have the motivation to play. I can understand the frustraion of having to pay to play for a tournament of this nature, but unfortunately the India hockey program is at its infancy, and there are no funds available. I explained that the players should still show up to show their support, but to also improve their own hockey skills. I also enquired into whether SECMOL could pay for the players to participate, as it seemed like a great way to give their students a chance to really move up in the world (I perceive a school as trying to help its students any way possible, but maybe that’s my idealism coming out once again), as well as great recognition for SECMOL itself (they could put it on their website, touting that two SECMOL students are on the national team, and use that to solicit more donations, support and volunteer), and was quickly met with a curt, “we don’t have any money!” I decided it was time to go to SECMOL and present my case.

I returned to SECMOL that evening with Tashi and his new group of fifteen VIS students, replacing the half-dozen or so that had been there a few weeks prior. I felt like the resident Ladakhi expert when I met these (mostly) high school kids. Earlier that day I had shared with them some of the good and bad of Ladakh, but knew that most of it wouldn’t set in until a month or so into their stay. Fortunately, their trip started as Winter was winding down, and as the season changes, Leh opens up to the outside world. I was there for the Winter, and we already discussed those hardships.

When I arrived at SECMOL, I had a few points of business to take care of. Firstly, I needed to speak to the players to explain why their presence is so important. Secondly, I wanted to speak to one of the folks in charge, to explain why I felt SECMOL should support them. Third(ly?), I wanted to grab a few hockey movies that they had in their posession (like Miracle) so that I could show it to the team, and lastly, I wanted to get my skates sharpened by one of the departing VIS students that sharpens skates when he’s in Vermont. All of those were accomplished.

As expected, the players showed up the next day with the army, and for a week or so, practices progressed, if at a tortoise’s pace. I tried my hardest to improve the basics, while implementing the most beginner of strategy. Off the ice, we discussed the concepts and reasoning behind how you position yourself on the ice, and how to work together as a team. I showed them Miracle, which they were absolutely loving, but we had to stop the movie in the middle because the DVD player started to smoke…really. Two days we concluded the movie, and the guys were on the edge of their seats as USA defeated USSR and Finland.

I spoke with them at length regarding my frustraion with their lack of focus and mental discpline, and went into a SWOT (Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, Threats) Analysis. Needless to say, Strengths were not our prominent category, but we found a few, and agree to magnify those aspects of our game, and obviously improve the contrary.

I also drafted up a document entitled, “So you want to be a hockey player…”, reviewing and outlining all of the things that only partially lay out the things one would have to do to support their hockey career, such as cutting out certain foods, alcohol and tobacco, doing relevant exercises (like yoga), and carrying themselves in a manner that honors the traditions of the game.

It was relative smooth sailing, although frustrating nonetheless, until we started to run into a few unfortunate events. Among the most significant was the weather. Every evening, the temperature would make it down below the freezing point, but during the day, it would rise a few degrees over. We kept our practices early to combat this, but the problem intensifies with time. At high altitude, the sun is much closer and stronger, and when the ice melts a little on day one, it accumulates a little bit every day (when the weather is consistent). This was the pattern for almost the entire duration, with the ice becoming worse every day.

Because of the weather conditions, the playing surface of the rink suffered. In many damaged areas, I used cones to detour to the team so that they wouldn’t fall in. There were holes in some spots as well, which I surrounded with cones, although that didn’t stop a handful of pucks from going into the pond through those tiny holes. At one point, when 2 players collided on the drill that should be collission-less, they both fell, lost the puck, and it went scurrying into one of the holes on the surface, like it had an instinctive desire to go swimming. I was more pissed about the puck than I was about the players colliding stupidly.

When the team stood in one spot, the ice would begin to crack, sounding like a whip. The prospect of falling into the cold, dirty pond, in chest high water (I assume), was not on the top of my to do list. If for anything, I was more freightened about the garbage than I was about getting out of the water or catching hypothermia.

It drama came to a climax near the end of my stay in Ladakh, when we were doing a skating/passing drill (something we still hadn’t perfected). One of the SECMOL players fell, and was in obvious pain. I skated over to him, and his mouth was open and he was writhing on the ice like a snake. I knew immediately, this was a seizure. Players came over and held is body, stabilizing his head and taking off his skates. Some massaged his feet (to this day, I’m not really sure why, although I assume it was increase blood flow). His eyes went into the back of his head, and he was foaming from the mouth, until he lost consciousness.

As the team stood around, the ice began to crack, to which I shouted to clear the area, and call a doctor. Nobody did anything. I repeated my request/command, and just now do I recall that I may have told people to “call 911!”, which would explain their lack of response, since 911 is not the emergency line in India. Eventually, a player pulled his car near the rink, and a group of players picked up their teammate and hoisted him over there head, 7 feet high, to get him over the wall surrounding the rink and into the car, and to the hospital.

An hour or so later later, we got confirmation that it was indeed a seizure, but that he was ok, albeit dazed and confused. Initially, my assumption was that he had caught a rut in the ice, fallen, hit his head, and gone into a seizure. What actually happened was that he went into a seizure while skating and fell, but didn’t hit his head (or hit it lightly). They were keeping him for 72 hours for observation and more tests.

Because of this happening, and my concern for safety (a foreign concept in India - and China for that matter, but you’ll have to request those stories from me another time), I ended practice early, and instructed the players to remove the nets (which were usually left on the rink 24/7), and shut down the rink for the day (if not for the season). I spoke to Henk, and suggested that they cancel their youth clinic for the day, and he agreed. Apparently, the LWSC didn’t.

I voiced my concerns (forcefully at times, sarcastically at others) that it’s not worth risking a serious injury for one of the kids, and was met with disregard. The parents had paid, so the feeling was that the kids should skate. I suggested that they return the money for one day. Even if all went well, it’s not worth taking a chance, because if tragedy does strike, it would be catastrophic.

This became a pattern.

TO BE CONTINUED…