In the summer of 1997, I went to an exposure tournament at Michigan State University — and to be honest, I didn’t want to go.

I was 17, and after three straight years of AAA and high school hockey, averaging over 100 games a season, I was burnt out. 😩

I just wanted to be a kid for the summer.

But I had already committed to the team, and my parents (rightfully so) made me go.

So, in classic teenage fashion, I thought:
“Fine, I’ll go — and I’ll get myself kicked out. That’ll show my parents.” 😎

Well, I ended up playing all four games, putting up points, and fighting twice per game. Every scrum? I was in it. Every cheap shot after the whistle?
I attempted.

I was a rat the whole tournament — and this was before the word “rat” even entered the hockey vocabulary. 🤪

My grand plan to get tossed was in full motion… even though it never actually worked. 😯

After the final game, my stepdad walked into the locker room and said:
“Keep your effing gear on — they want to see more of you. You’re playing for another team in the next game.”

The tone and the explicative said it all: I know what you were trying to do… and this is what you deserve. 🤣

I couldn’t believe it. The same weekend I tried to get kicked out of the tournament, scouts noticed me.

I don’t even remember who that “other team” was, but the people who wanted to see more of me turned out to be the Weyburn Red Wings of the SJHL — where I went on to play two of my three Junior seasons.

Here’s the point:
✅ You don’t need to play for the top AAA program — I did locally, and they never saw me there.
✅ You don’t need to log 100 games a year — sometimes it just takes four games at a random tournament to get noticed.
✅ You don’t need to attend every showcase or chase the biggest-name event — because no one thinks “exposure” and “Michigan State in July” in the same sentence.

Because sometimes — in mid-summer, when the heat is oppressive and all you want to do is hang out with friends — you’re in Michigan, on a patchwork roster, in a tournament you didn’t even want to attend… and they’re watching. 👀

Moral of the Story: Show up. Compete. Because you never know who’s watching — or when.