The Voice: A Hockey Tournament to Remember
PART I
It was a snowy day when I was getting ready to leave for my hockey tournament in St. Jean Port- Jolie Quebec in the region of La Pocatière, and to be honest I would’ve wished for that snow fall later. There’s just something about a hockey tournament that is special, a moment of bonding between teammates that unless you play the sport you wouldn’t understand. At the end of my playing career, I know that those will be the moments I will remember the most, the tournaments. Not the X’s and O’s or how many losses we had racked up that season, but rather the bonds and memories formed in tournaments with teammates. Anyhow, back to the story. I was super excited for what was to come in the tournament this time around because of how well we were recently playing in our last couple games. First game… win, second game… win, third game and the elimination game… out, well so much for that. I never really understood some of the formats these tournaments have, because you can win both the first and second game, but if you lose the third, you’re out. We had to keep our chins high because of how well we all played and so when returning to the motel at around 8:30pm, we decided to begin the long night of fun. The night was filled with beer pong, shots, music, and of course a lot of dumb things that could only be accomplished by a group of immature young men. Even though we had our fun at night, the majority of players and parents decided to leave early in the morning to avoid what they were calling, a major storm. We woke up early, and sure enough while looking outside there was nothing but snow for as far as we can see along with a continuous heavy snowfall. We went and see the women at the front desk, and she informed us that a section of the highway was completely closed for the foreseeable future for the safety of the drivers. So, from leaving at 7am, it went south really quick. 7am became 9am and 9am became lunch time and before we knew it the highway would still be closed at 7pm, 12 hours from our initial hopeful departure time. The biggest problem was, even if we wanted to take alternate routes, it was impossible because they were all closed. Finally, at 9pm, the highway was open, and we were clear to go, but with no ease. It was one of the scariest times that I was ever in a car, I could only imagine what my father was feeling at the time. Driving 60km/h with hazards on, we made our way home at 1am, and concluded a tournament I’ll never forget.
PART II
My father and I left for a hockey tournament in St. Jean Port-Jolie Quebec, in the region of La Pocatière. Hockey tournaments are the single most memorable part of any young player’s hockey career. I probably won’t remember all of the X’s and O’s, or the number of times we lost, but rather the bond I shared with teammates. Our tournament began rather well, as we won both of our preliminary games, but ended abruptly when we lost our first elimination game. In my opinion, tournaments are not planned out in the best ways, but with a record of 2-1 we were out (ousted). We still felt pretty good about our game and so we decided to party for the night at the hotel. The night was filled with beer pong, shots, music, and of course a lot of dumb things that could only be accomplished by a group of immature young men. Most of the team was still disciplined enough to wake up early to get back home. We woke up to the women at the front desk informing us that a portion of the highway used to get home, was closed due to the snowstorm that had developed through the late night. So much for leaving at 7am… because we only managed to leave safely at 9pm. After driving at 60km/h with hazards on for four hours, we finally arrived home at 1am with our greatest fears behind us, and a with a lasting memory of an unforgettable tournament.
PART III
My father and I departed for a hockey tournament in St. Jean Port-Jolie, in the region of La Pocatière nestled north of Quebec City. Hockey tournaments are the single most memorable part of any young player’s hectic career. Not a soul will recall the X’s and O’s on the dry erase board, or the number of times we waved the white flag, faltering to our opponents. Our tournament had begun with great fortune as we came out victorious on our first two outings, however we were ousted in the first game of elimination as our prosperous tournament quickly faded. Upon return to the underwhelming motel that awaited us, it was customary for us young athletes to celebrate all we’ve accomplished with a lengthy night of celebration. We remained determined to wake up at a reasonable hour so we could embark on the tumultuous path that awaited. The lady at the front desk had informed us of an apparent closure on the highway home, leading us to leave fourteen hours after the scheduled time of 7am. The drive left quite the disturbing feeling among drivers and passengers, as the roads were filled with the hissing of the snow like sand in the dessert. Vehicles moved at minimum velocity while the hazards were flashing as far as man could see. The obstreperous drive finally came to an end, and all the players and coaches were safe at home with their families, only lucky to have withstood the cataclysmic storm behind them.
Luca Caprio 