One woman’s story about playing in the National Blind Hockey Tournament
By Maurie Hill
In the winter of 2015, despite the exceptionally frigid air, my daughter Arden and I headed to Toronto during winter break for the National Blind Hockey Tournament. Traveling north for a mid-winter escape was not the only thing out of my comfort zone on this epic journey.
After taking the bus to Burlington, Vt., we checked in at the airport. Despite my inability to read signs, I instructed Arden to follow me: after all, this is the airport I grew up near. But I confused it with the equally small airport in Albany and we found ourselves in parts unknown on the second floor. In retrospect, nothing could be simpler—turn right after check-in and the gates are less than 50 yards to the right on the ground level. But it’s only easy the second time.
How foolish I must have seemed to be, desperately looking around this tiny concourse for any visual confirmation that we were in the right spot to board the plane to Toronto. After I relaxed, I could appreciate the beautiful large flakes of snow falling outside the large windows.
Touching down on a spit of land on frozen Lake Ontario, it only took a bus, plane, ferry ride, and taxi to reach our first resort destination: “Downtown Centre,” a very nice Holiday Inn. The hotel is located barely 100 yards from the legendary Maple Leaf Gardens (what is now the Mattamy Athletic Centre of Ryerson University).
Shortly after our arrival at the hotel, players and hockey bags took over the lobby. It’s a big load when toting regular luggage, hockey sticks, and a white cane as well. Some would become my teammates for the next 3 days of hockey in the 2015 Courage Canada National Blind Hockey Tournament, the main purpose of this semi-arctic adventure. Eighty people from all across Canada, and five of us from the United States, formed six teams. Four games would determine who would win Gold, Silver, and Bronze medals, and a whole lot more.
Trying to squeeze in some last-minute conditioning and skating time the week before, my muscles and body already felt out of whack from a hard fall on my home rink. There would be four games in three days with and against these men that I was silently observing as they checked in. What on earth did I get myself into?
We all received matching Reebok track suits to identify ourselves as Courage Canada hockey players. The visual ability of each ranged from legally blind to totally blind. The identifying outfits helped build connections and then friendships. While in the hotel elevator, the ice rink elevator and at Starbucks, I heard questions like, “What team are you on?” “What’s your name?” “Where are you from?” Because of my inability to recognize faces too well I didn’t always know if I had already met them, but a few sentences would soon get us on the same page. And they always understood why I didn’t recognize their faces, as we became familiar with each other’s voices.
Before the first game of the tournament, players, coaches, and volunteers gathered at the rink. This day happened to be the 50th anniversary of the Canadian flag, so a big red maple leaf and 2 red stripes (a representation of the flag) were laid out on the ice. Some 2,000 lucky people would become Canadian citizens that day on the celebrated Maple Leaf ice. How cool is that?
Warm Canadian Welcome
We felt the warm Canadian welcome as we gathered in the lounge overlooking the rink for our opening meeting. Mark DeMontis, the president and founder of Courage Canada, gave a rousing pep talk that would have motivated a sloth like me, and it did. Let the games begin!
This third-annual event had the most players, most women, and most Americans so far. And for the first time, 8 qualified players under the age of 18 played with us. The youngest was 14, and everyone agreed those slender yet stellar youth added so much to the entire weekend experience. At the other end of the spectrum, the oldest was 81. No one could ever view a visual impairment as a life sentence after watching 80 people have so much fun over those next 3 days.
On the Friday afternoon, my Team Ontario’s first game was on. I got dressed in the women’s locker room and then joined the men for a team meeting. The only sighted members on the team were the volunteer coaches, who typically coach sighted players. But they clearly had our backs and had the same goal as we did—to have fun and win. Many of the goalies who played were totally blind; the defensemen were partially sighted, while the offensive players had the highest of the low vision. I played right wing and it took the entire first period to get my jitters out.
A collision in the first few minutes of the game had me feeling all my aches and pains again. I headed to the bench to assess the damage. Suddenly I realized I’m 40 years older than my teammate sitting next to me. But Mario, our goalie, is 58, and had the guts to listen to 3 offensive players with relatively good legally blind vision and extremely fast skates come down the ice towards him. That’s gutsy, and I found myself back on the ice.
It paid off! Despite my inexperience and lack of serious physical value to the team, I got an assist! My teammates and coaches made a big deal about this. How fun is that? Reflecting back, the sports I had participated in were basically individual sports–cross-country skiing and running. I played one season of ice hockey a long time ago. The speed, glide, and intensity of this sport are exciting. There’s nothing like it. The super-sized noisy puck was easy for me to see within about 20 feet, which is more than you could say for the goalie or defensemen. They rely more on the clanging of the ball bearings hidden inside the hollow metal puck.
The next two games were against the top-two teams that ended up winning Gold and Silver. But it was fun to watch my teammates dig deep, and we lost by only one point each game. Between games, most of the time we hung out at the rink and enjoyed watching the other games. Strategies were formed as we observed our future competitors. Someone would definitely need to shadow Christine “The Scoring Machine” Vanturini, from the New York Nightshades and Courage USA. She was small and mighty. With his incessant humor, Mario thought I could distract her by striking up a conversation about cooking. Like me, I’m not sure she’s a recipe enthusiast either but it didn’t matter; I never caught up to her out on the ice.
She Shoots, She Scores!
The last day, which determined the final standings, had arrived. After the last two very tough games, I just wanted to finish in one piece. As a non-driver, my body is my vehicle to get my daughter to school, walk to work, and carry groceries up my steep hill. But I’m preaching to the choir because everyone on the ice was in the same boat, and the consequences are quickly forgotten when the competitive instinct kicks in. On the bench, Darren, the center, told me to go to the net more for potential passes. And next thing I knew, there it was. I was there, the puck was there. I pushed it in through a tangled web of sticks and legs, and score! We ended up winning 11-3 for a Bronze medal, and I was off the ice still in one piece.
After the last game a nap should have been in order, but Arden and I used our final afternoon in Toronto to explore the city. All new territory, Arden took the tour guide position when Mom started to panic on how to navigate in and out of the structures. The temperatures were unquestionably cold, but we were able to stay underground or inside to tour the city.
Our winter sojourn half over, Arden and I ended up on the same train out of Toronto the next morning with Kevin Shanley, fellow Courage USA blind hockey player. With his white cane, he showed us how easy it was to ask for help from the VIA Rail staff at the Toronto station. It was nice to just sit and chat for a few hours around the perimeter of Lake Ontario. When we got off at Niagara, he noted my one hockey stick and mused, “You’re supposed to bring two in case one breaks.” There I was, unwittingly living life on the edge again!
Later on, Arden and I talked about all the players and coaches on Team Ontario, all of the different types of vision impairments (and my slow skating, as she willingly pointed out). She’s already excited to go again next year. Muscles still sore, I wasn’t ready to commit just yet but was charmed by her enthusiasm.
The following week, my body still felt like a train wreck but I can guarantee that after watching my teammates leave nothing in the tank, they all felt the same.
Just what was it that made this event exceptionally captivating and fun for players, coaches, and spectators alike? Being inexperienced, I wasn’t exactly in my comfort zone skating alongside men who grew up playing the sport. Easygoing for the most part, I get frustrated, anxious, and annoyed when poor vision prevents me from finding where to go or what to do when I walk into a new place, out of my normal comfort zone. So why would playing ice hockey, a normally visual sport, be so empowering and fun?
Everyone on the ice has a cross to bear. As Kevin says, if you like to play hockey “there are no excuses.” He doesn’t know how his statement kept me on that road to Toronto. From my perspective, the black puck is large and noisy, and makes for good contrast on the white ice. The lines on the ice are wide and clear; the opposing team’s jersey colors intentionally high-contrasting. I could usually see where my teammates were and in what direction they were going. There is no small or large text on the ice to figure out which direction to go; unlike a sidewalk or a potholed road, the ice surface is generally smooth and predictable. It’s a confined space—no chance to get lost. But rest assured, that didn’t prevent me from frequently being at the wrong place at the wrong time!
Because of blind hockey, Arden has now met other people with Stargardt’s, my eye condition, and has learned about a whole range of visual challenges. She has met another set of sisters, Christine and Vicki—both of whom have Stargardt’s—as well as a daughter whose mother cannot drive her to school either. They are pretty cool people that she’d like to see again. And she has seen her mom push past her fear and go out of her comfort zone by choice. And the choice is what makes all the difference.
We face uncomfortable situations every day. Try one that fuels your spirit instead of your frustrations.