I’m Not Crying… We’re All Crying: When Hockey Becomes the Place Where Grief, Courage, and Community Meet
- Edward Garinger
- Mar 13
- 5 min read
If you’ve spent any real time around hockey, you know there are moments when the game becomes bigger than the scoreboard.
Bigger than wins and losses.
Bigger than championships.
Bigger even than the game itself.
This week gave us one of those moments.
And if you watched the video, or read the story, or saw the clip of the crowd exploding after the puck crossed the line, you probably said the same thing a lot of us said:
“I’m not crying… we’re all crying.”
A Tragedy No Hockey Family Should Ever Face
On February 16, 2026, during a high school hockey game at Dennis M. Lynch Arena in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, a shooting occurred in the stands that targeted members of one family. The attack killed a mother, her son, and later her father, and injured others before the shooter died by suicide.
One of the players on the ice that day was Colin Dorgan.
While he was playing hockey, his own mother, brother, and grandfather were being attacked in the stands.
Think about that for a second.
Not after the game.
Not later that night.
Not weeks later.
During the game.
The kind of moment that splits a life into two parts: before and after.
Rhode Island high school sports shut down for a week after the tragedy. The team paused its season. The community rallied. Counseling services were offered to students, families, and staff.
Because when something like that happens, hockey stops being a sport.
It becomes a community trying to hold itself together.
The Return to the Ice
Eventually the team came back.
Not because everything was okay.
But because hockey people understand something important: sometimes the rink is the only place where things make sense again.
When Blackstone Valley returned to the ice, the players wore patches on their jerseys - hearts with the initials of the three family members who had been lost.
Every shift was emotional.
Every game meant something.
And the team stayed close. Their coach made sure of that.
For two straight weeks after the tragedy, players, coaches, and Colin’s sister gathered every day - skating, training, or simply having dinner together.
Not for hockey.
For healing.
Because in hockey culture, teammates don’t just show up for the games.
They show up for the life stuff too.
The Moment That Made Everyone Cry
Fast forward a few weeks.
Playoffs.
Semifinal.
Blackstone Valley vs. Portsmouth.
The game goes to overtime.
Then double overtime.
And suddenly the puck lands on Colin Dorgan’s stick.
He breaks in.
Breakaway.
Shot.
Goal.
Game over.
Blackstone Valley wins 3–2 and advances to the Rhode Island Division 2 championship game.
His teammates pile on him.
The crowd erupts.
And somewhere between the celebration and the emotion, the entire arena realizes what just happened.
A kid who lost his mother, brother, and grandfather just weeks earlier had scored the most important goal of his season.
Maybe the most important goal of his life.
He later described it simply:
“It was the greatest moment of my life.”
And if you watched the coach afterward, he said something that summed up how everyone felt.
He said he “cried like a baby.”
Honestly?
So did a lot of people watching.
Why This Story Hits Hockey People So Hard
If you’re not a hockey person, you might see this story and think:
“Nice moment.”
But if you’ve lived inside the game - as a player, coach, or parent - you understand why this moment hits differently.
Because hockey teams are weird.
In the best possible way.
You spend 4 or 6 days a week together. Sometimes 7.
You ride buses together.
You eat terrible (and good) pizza together.
You go through practices where your legs are burning and the coach won’t let you off the ice.
And somewhere in all of that, a team stops being just a team.
It becomes a family.
That’s why when tragedy happens in hockey, the entire hockey world feels it.
The Lesson for Players
If you’re a young player reading this, here’s what I want you to understand.
Hockey will give you incredible moments.
Championships.
Goals.
Road trips.
Locker room laughs.
But sometimes hockey will give you something even more valuable.
Support when life gets hard.
You might not remember every goal you score.
But you will remember the teammates who stood beside you when things weren’t easy.
Colin’s teammates didn’t just celebrate with him when he scored. They stood beside him when everything in his world collapsed.
That’s real team culture.
The Lesson for Coaches
Some coaches like to think their job is winning games.
Systems.
Breakouts.
Forechecks.
Power play sets.
But moments like this remind us what the job actually is.
Your real job is building an environment where players feel safe, supported, and connected.
Look at what Colin’s coach did.
He didn’t just run practices.
He kept the team together.
He created daily connection.
He made sure nobody felt alone.
That’s coaching.
Sometimes the most important thing you do isn’t drawing on the whiteboard. It’s making sure your players know someone has their back.
The Lesson for Parents
Parents often focus on ice time, development, or where their kid fits in the lineup.
And those things matter.
But the biggest gift hockey gives your kids isn’t skill.
It’s relationships.
It’s learning what it feels like to be part of something bigger than yourself.
It’s teammates showing up when things go wrong.
And sometimes - like in this story - it’s a community lifting a young player up when the world has knocked him down.
Why Hockey Matters
People sometimes say hockey is just a game.
And they’re technically right.
But stories like this remind us why the game matters.
Hockey gives us places where grief and joy can exist in the same moment.
Where a goal can mean more than a win.
Where a kid carrying unimaginable pain can still find a moment of happiness.
When Colin Dorgan scored that goal, it wasn’t just a playoff moment. It was a reminder that resilience exists. That teammates matter. That communities can carry people when they can’t carry themselves.
The Final Thought
If you watch the video of that goal, you’ll see the celebration.
You’ll see the bench clear.
You’ll see teammates mobbing the scorer.
But if you look closely, you’ll also see something else.
People wiping their eyes.
Coaches hugging players.
Fans standing and clapping a little longer than usual.
Because in that moment everyone understood something.
That goal wasn’t just about hockey.
It was about love.
It was about grief.
It was about the way a team - and a community - can help someone keep moving forward.
And if you watched it and felt emotional, don’t worry.
You weren’t the only one.
Ed Garinger is a seasoned hockey coach, mentor, and educator with over two decades of experience. A native of the Bruce Peninsula, he played minor and junior hockey before earning his BA and BEd from Nipissing University, where he also competed in varsity volleyball and extramural hockey.
Coaching since age 14, Ed has balanced his teaching career with an extensive coaching and development portfolio, working with players at all levels. He has coached in the Provincial Junior Hockey League, led youth and high school teams, and served as a learning facilitator for the OMHA. His experience includes elite programs like the OHL/OHF U15 and U16 camps, U17 Regional Camps, and Hockey Canada’s Skills Academy.
A Hockey Canada HP1-certified coach, USA Hockey-certified coach, and Chartered Professional Coach (ChPC), Ed is committed to ongoing professional development and continually seeks to expand his knowledge to better serve players and coaches. Now based in Orillia, he enjoys passing on his passion for hockey to the next generation.
