I got to sleep-in the next morning. As uncomfortable as my room was, this would be my home base for the next three days. I told Joe that I would meet him at the arena and not to worry about coming to get me before his morning skate. This was a big mistake. I Googled the arena location and it seemed to be walkable. Even so, I tried to arrange a cab or attempt to take a bus. Good luck. I began my trek and attempted to follow the directions on my phone. Oh my God! I was so out of shape! This place was far! I pushed on taking breaks wherever I could find a place to sit. When it seemed like I was going to collapse…there it was. Such a beautiful sight! I made it! Across the hockey world, wherever a team calls home, no matter the size, the nickname for every arena is the “Barn”. “The Wells Fargo Center”… the Philadelphia Flyers “Barn”. The Tibro hockey club had a great Barn. The giant European style ice surface was covered by a huge arched wooden roof. The seating was wooden and the aura of a past era. Many Swedish Professional Hockey clubs were very storied and had been fielding teams for years. In Sweden, like Canada, hockey was life.
I reached the front entrance to the Tibro Community Arena and to my dismay, the doors were locked. Like, I’m ready to collapse! Literally! I walked around to the rear of the building where I assumed that the players entered and again found a locked door. I knocked a few times and finally a team representative opened the door. I was in. The team was on the ice and after I identified myself, was welcomed to watch the session and got a grand tour of the facility. I enjoyed this moment so much. Tears came to my eyes as I sat there and realized that I was watching my son playing for a Professional Ice Hockey team in addition to harboring a secret that I couldn’t reveal to him. That I really had no idea where I was headed with my new dilemma and that I was just so proud of him. So proud of both of my boys. The pace of the practice was fast and furious. These guys could fly. The passes were crisp and the pucks flying at high speed towards the net. It was fun to watch. Afterwards, I got to meet the coaches and hang out with the team in the locker room as they wound down, showered and finished their day. It was hysterical. So many different nationalities and languages. Swedes, Canadians, Joey, Latvian, Russian and Finnish teamates. A typical locker room vibe. I was so happy for him.
Joe’s roommate was a Swedish goalie named Charles. A typical Swede, blond hair and blue eyed, he spent three years playing D3 College Hockey in Massachusetts and was trying to make a career back home. Charles had an old Mercedes SUV with a million miles on it but it rode great and I wasn’t walking anymore! We stopped at a gas station where I filled up the tank and then a small market to buy some groceries for the boys. Little did I know that I would be cooking pasta with meat sauce for Charles, Joey and about three other teammates. It was a great time. I found out that these guys are very competitive off the ice too. XBOX was our entertainment for the evening. Afterwards, the boys dropped me off at my hotel and promised to pick me up the next morning. One more day until I would watch my buddy play his first game. Wednesday morning came quick and the guys were beeping for me outside. We stopped at a Bodega style market for some quick breakfast and back to the arena we went. The preparations for Thursday night again were high speed and packed with adrenaline. After their loss on Sunday, the team was pumped to face off against a long time rival in front of a packed arena. This night was a going out to dinner night. It would be early, of course, but Joe, Charles and I would sit down to a nice meal and talk about both of them starting in their first Pro game. Sure, they were nervous, who wouldn’t be? And very excited.
Back in my room, I knew that I wasn’t going to get much sleep. I was so excited for Joe… and quite honestly for me too. Ever since I tied his laces for him and put him on the ice when he was three years old, I dreamed of this night. That was twenty years ago. I was in a bad cancer place then too. This was my life. I wouldn’t trade it for anything though. But now, my guys would understand the gravity of my situation if I broke this news to them. I wouldn’t put them in that position until I knew more. A lot more. Time to get to sleep though, my next two days were going to be a killer. In the morning, I was able to arrange a cab to get to tonight’s game. I didn’t want to bother Joey, game day prep was sacred and mental. I got to explore the town of Tibro today. It took me about twenty minutes. I stopped in an old school hardware store. Some things had layers of dust on them so thick that you couldn’t see what was in the box. Another store had cell phone supplies and did cell phone repairs. The owner , a Libyan immigrant, told me of the many immigrants that were placed in Tibro and other towns in the area. Mostly Muslim, the women all wore Hijabs and rode bicycles everywhere. He told me of relatives in the US and how he longed to join them. I ate lunch in a small pizzeria that was advertising itself as a “Taste of Italy”. It was awful… Lol.
The cab that I arranged was quite old with a Somalian driver. Luckily, he knew the route and I made it to the arena in good time. Ticket in hand, I entered through the main gate and found my seat. The game was fabulous. I couldn’t understand the game announcer, of course, but it didn’t matter. Joe played great! Tibro IHC had their first win and I enjoyed eating the biggest, longest, hot dog that I had ever seen. Delicious! And I cried. I was a bit overwhelmed when Joe jumped over the boards for his first shift. From that point on, I coached his every play… In my head, but nevertheless, it was in my blood. I couldn’t help myself. The atmosphere, the music and the fans in the arena were electric. I couldn’t believe that I had to leave in the morning. After the game, just Joe and I went out to dinner. I basked in his glory and his excitement. Charles lent us the Mercedes and after a great night, we went back to my room and watched some Swedish TV. Tomorrow morning I would be back on the bus to Skovde, transferring to a train, and making my way to Stockholm for the long plane ride home. The fifteen hour trip would be exhausting. Since the bus stop to Skovde was right near my hotel and the departure very early, I said my goodbyes to Joe that evening. It was so hard to let him go as I hugged him before he left. I knew that he appreciated me being there. I wouldn’t see him again until the holidays. Good luck # 26. Love you.
Next Up: January’s Coming