Entering my seventh year as the head coach at East Grand High School, I never could have predicted how the season would unfold. It was a season of unexpected turns, both for me and for the Pioneers.
The sting of the past two seasons' endings lingered. We fell short in back-to-back state title games in both 2023 and 2024. That triple-overtime loss in '24 still replays in my mind, a phantom ache that keeps me up some nights. Those games, those missed chances, will stay with me for life. Yet, as painful as they were, they served as a stark reminder of the work that lay ahead. My commitment remained unwavering: to continue building this program, no matter the setbacks.
After the 2024 season, we graduated ten seniors, including both of our starting goalies. The celebratory banquet ended, and the immediate, pressing question surfaced: "Who will be our goalie next year?" The reality was grim; there were no goalies in the high school, and none coming up from middle school. For any hockey team, this presents a monumental problem.
But the team's challenges weren't the only ones casting a shadow.
Beyond the Bench
Eight years ago, I underwent my first double transplant. Born with cystic fibrosis, I've spent my entire life battling health challenges. Through it all, hockey has been my constant escape and my enduring passion. I love the game, and I love coaching high school hockey.
Following the 2024 season, however, my health began to decline. The fatigue became profound, making it increasingly difficult to get on the ice, harder to even stand behind the bench during practice. All offseason, a heavy question hung over me, a constant whisper of doubt: Would I even be able to continue coaching? Would I need a second transplant? The thought of stepping away from the game I loved, from the program I'd poured so much into, was agonizing. And, of course, the practical concern: would we find a goalie?
As fate would have it, word of our dilemma spread through the local hockey community. An 8th grader, enrolled at East. One massive hurdle cleared. I knew, at the very least, we would have someone in the net. From there, I shifted my focus to preparing my staff, booster board, and the school administration for the possibility that I might not be behind the bench this year. Regardless of my health, I was determined not to leave the program in a vulnerable position.
This is why I felt compelled to write this. Because building a program takes time. People often use the word "culture" casually, almost as a buzzword. But for me, culture isn't some abstract concept; it's a daily habit. When I took the coaching job at East, I arrived with a clear vision: not just to build a team that could win games, but to forge a program that could last.
Seven years later, that's precisely what we've built.
A Program Forged in Resilience
As the season began, my health prevented me from joining the team on the ice for practice; I sat on the bench, watching. For games, I stayed in my office, following the action on TV and monitors. This was a true test of the strong foundation that had been laid by the staff, current players and alumni booster club, and community. The team didn't miss a beat, starting the season 7-0 record.
Then, on December 9th, the call came. My doctors had a second set of lungs for me. I underwent my second successful lung transplant. All during this time, the team kept moving forward, maintaining their ranking as a top team in our division. In early January, I returned to the bench, getting back on the ice as soon as my recovery allowed. Also, huge thanks to all the doctors and nurses who gave me unbelievable care during my stay and recovery. These folks truly don’t get the credit they deserve.
The Fruits of Our Labor
This past season was a testament to that vision. Because of the foundation we've laid over the last six years, this team achieved remarkable success. We won 20-plus games, clinched the Conference title, were crowned Conference Tournament Champions, and secured our fourth consecutive Regional Championship. These accomplishments aren't just about wins and banners; they're the direct result of the program we've diligently built.
What is East Hockey Now? It's a Community.
East Hockey is a collective effort. It's dedicated volunteers giving their time, parents pouring in their energy, alumni returning to offer their unwavering support, and a student section that shows up every single night, transforming each game into something far greater than just a competition. East Hockey is a group of people — players, coaches, families, and fans — all working together for something larger than themselves. That collective spirit, that shared commitment, is the true heart of our program. It's what makes it truly special.
I've learned a profound truth: if you surround yourself with good people who genuinely care and who are willing to work tirelessly toward a common goal, you can build something truly special. That's what we've achieved at East.
A massive thank you to my associate head coach, Grant Newton, who stepped in flawlessly and kept the ship sailing during uncertain times. And to my amazing wife, Jessie, and my boys, Liam and Carter, your unwavering support and understanding are the foundation that allows me to pursue this passion.
A Message to My Fellow Coaches
For any coach reading this, I want to share a simple truth: it takes time. There are moments, many of them, when you'll wonder if all the effort, the long hours, the sacrifices, are truly worth it. But then you see it—you see your players, years down the line, giving back, upholding the traditions, and continuing to build the program up to where it is expected to be. That's when every single ounce of doubt vanishes, and it all makes sense. So, keep building. Keep pouring your heart into it. You never know when your investment will be returned tenfold. And with that said, the work is never done; keep building.
