Jay Graham

The Ties That Bind

C.S. Lewis said, “Friendship is born at the moment when one person says to another “what! You too? I thought no one but I …” 

Hockey players are like that. 

It's always been like that for those of us - boys and girls, men and women - who have called Riverview Ice House our home for hockey. We are brothers and sisters, connected by our shared passion for what we consider the perfect sport and the perfect place to play it: soulful, classic, Riverview.  

In the hockey family to which I belong, we are loosely formed around a decades-old adult traveling team called the Rockford Raiders. On Sundays and Wednesdays, fall, winter and spring, we split up to scrimmage one another - most often on the half-sheet known as the Studio Rink. We play fast-paced games of 3-on-3. No slap shots, first team to five goals wins, goalies switch sides, lots of chirping. That's it for rules.   

Players come and go, but they never leave the family. Some are grizzled veterans, a mantle I myself carry with a mixture of pride and resignation. Some are the sons of grizzled veterans. Our core have been together forever, it seems, but we're a multigenerational bunch with players in their 60s, 50s, 40s, 30s and 20s. 

Over the years, we have welcomed a variety of young players (some very young) onto the ice with us for a variety of reasons. We like their character, for instance. Or, we know a particular youngster would benefit from skating with bigger, more experienced players. Or, David needs to get eight-year-old  Kash out of the house. Or, we really, really need a goaltender tonight and we don't care if his head barely clears the crossbar. 

As players, we are a mixed bag. We’re junior college and club team veterans and ex-D3, D1 and pro players - like the two beauties flanking me in this photo. I remember when I first met Kevin and David - both encounters years apart. Hockey was the thing that created the spark of recognition that said we would have something more in common than exists on the surface of many relationships. 

In the ensuing years, we’ve shared a lot of ice time at Riverview and elsewhere. Many elsewheres, in fact. But the truly special thing about this photo is you could substitute any number of other multi-generational men and women we’ve played with and against, and the smiles would be just as broad. The ties that bind us together would be just as strong. 

What is it about Riverview that contributes to all this? Riverview's magic has something to do with everything about the place. The Brutalist design concept, burrowed into a hillside. The old circular fireplace* in the sunken gathering area just left of the front doors, flanked by picture windows offering a view of the icy river. The lobby filled with multi-generational, multi-ethnic, multi-background skating enthusiasts during Public Skate sessions - so many public skaters it can be hard to shoulder through with a hockey bag.

Even the two-sizes-too-small locker rooms with their famously erratic shower temperatures and pressure. And, especially the aforementioned Studio Rink; it is pure magic with the special challenges and dynamics created by its diminutive size. From figure skaters to Mighty Mites to broom ball players to 3 on 3 adults to the AHL Rockord IceHogs, everybody loves it. All together, it is perfectly imperfect. 

Since 1976, Riverview has been a character factory where lifelong friendships are born and nourished, where people look inward and find the capacity to do more and perform better than they think possible - for each other - and in the name of pure fun. 

Apparently, some folks at the Rockford Park District think these things could occur anywhere. But we in our extended hockey family know there is something in the ice-encrusted Rock River water alongside Riverview that makes it a special home. When we see each other, no matter where we are, floating around us like snowflakes are memories of unforgettable things that occurred at Riverview in downtown Rockford. We have shared the anticipation of cold Sunday mornings. We've seen the effort we’ve made in scrimmages and tournament games. We've fallen for the sick deke. We've gone top shelf, where momma keeps the PBJ. We’ve been in the thick of the animated locker room banter. We’ve taken an errant slash or elbow - and toasted each other anyway, after the game, at Prairie Street or Carlyle or Lombardi or Verdi. And we've won and we've lost. 

In the end, though, we're all winners. And now, you know why.