I can still remember pulling a book off the shelf at St. Joseph Elementary’s school library when I was about 10 years old. The cover stood out—a bold image from the legendary 1972 Summit Series showing Team Canada triumphing over the USSR. At that age, hockey consumed my imagination. I daydreamed of playing in the NHL, of donning a Team Canada jersey and representing my country.

Inside that book, I came across a quote—possibly from Phil Esposito—that read: “Every time I go on the ice I look around the room and tell myself I will be the hardest working guy on the ice.” I'm not sure those were his exact words, but the sentiment stuck with me through every stride of my playing career. Over time, those words evolved into something deeper: a personal promise not just to outwork others, but to honor the game each time I laced up.

Hockey, to me, is the most unique game on the planet. The equipment, the icy playing surface, the physical demands—it’s unlike any other sport. But what truly sets hockey apart is the people. The players, coaches, volunteers, and fans who pour their souls into this game make it the most beautiful sport there is. So, how do we honor that?

Past

Whether stepping onto a community rink or skating beneath the lights of the Bell Centre in Montreal, it’s a privilege to hit the ice. Before each session, I take a moment to think about everyone who came before us—from Maurice "Rocket" Richard to the community coach who spent 25 seasons shaping young lives with no fanfare. These are the individuals who paved the way, and honoring them starts with a mindset of gratitude. That perspective is humbling—and powerful.

Present

The game is evolving faster than ever. As coaches and players, dedicating ourselves to understanding the high-frequency situations in today’s hockey as Jack Han highlights in his amazing presentation on The Coaches Site help keep us focused on helping our players develop into the best player they can be.  Recognizing that somewhere out there, someone is pushing harder than us isn’t discouraging; it’s motivating. Every time I step on the ice, I am thankful for that opportunity and strive to make the most of it, not only for myself, but more importantly to all the players on the ice.

Future

Working primarily with youth, I often find myself wondering what these kids will go on to become. Which of them will be a future coach? A surgeon? A teacher? Some of the older ones already show leadership—I’ve even told a few they have “coach” written all over them. And truthfully, I better be nice to them… who knows, one day they might be my boss in some form!

But more than career paths, my hope is that these kids fall in love with the game deeply enough to want to give back. That they’ll grow up, start families, and pass that love along—by coaching their own kids and keeping the cycle going. That’s the vision I hold whenever I step onto the ice.

That Summit Series book made a lifelong impression on me. And while we coaches might not reach audiences the way Phil Esposito did, we still have the power to say things that shape a child’s future. If we do it right, our words and actions can become echoes in someone else’s journey—just like that book did for me.