obelisk 2022
I sat down at the bench and started to put on my leg guards , socks , pants , shoulder pads , elbow pads and helmet , while my dad kneeled at my feet and tied my skates . As my dad tightened the last lace , he patted me on the boot of the skate and said , “ You got this buddy .” I went up the steps of the boards and put one skate on the ice . “ Here I go !” I thought to myself . I put my second skate on the ice and … I instantly fell .
That was the first of perhaps a hundred falls I had during my first ever ice skating lesson . Halfway through the lesson , I noticed that my mom , seated at a bench rinkside , had turned herself around so that her back now faced me . She could no longer bear to watch . My parents might have assumed that it was my first and last ice skating lesson , but they underestimated the burning desire I had inside of me . I was going to be a hockey player .
They also underestimated Coach Ritchie , the man who made it his personal mission to get me gliding across the rink . He always wore the same uniform : baseball cap on backwards , a hoodie sweatshirt , and black pants . Although physically a bear of a man , he was as graceful as a ballerina on his skates . Laced with inflections that revealed his Italian-by-way-of-Brooklyn heritage , his voice was loud and carried words of encouragement above the swoosh of skates , the pinging of pucks , and the crack of sticks on the ice . Several years later , I was playing a hockey game at the same ice rink where I had first learned to skate . Looking up at the bleachers to catch a sight of my parents , I noticed that my dad was speaking to a man . I recognized that uniform immediately . Coach Ritchie stood on the bleacher beaming with pride , a giant smile on his face .
~ Brody Coraine
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