Before the first shot

We’re early.
Earlier than necessary. Earlier than most.

The rink smells clean in the morning. Cold. Exited.

He steps onto the ice and skates straight to the crease. No laps. No talking.

Rituals

Tape. Stretch. One glove tap on the post.
Same order. Every time.

I used to think it was superstition.
Now I know it’s control.

Goalies don’t get to control much.
But they get to control the beginning.

“Routine is how you calm the noise before it starts.”

The first shot always comes fast.
As if the ice wants to test him.

Watching without interfering

It’s never just the puck.
It’s the Parents stand closer during training.
Some shout encouragement. Some corrections.

I stay back.
He doesn’t need another voice in his head.

He tracks the puck. Misses one. Stops the next.
Moves on.

That part took me time to learn.

End of practice

The ice is carved up now. Loud again.
He skates off, breathing heavy.

“Good session,” I say.

He smiles.
That’s enough.