The Time a Police Officer Came to the Bench I Was Coaching On — In the Middle of the Game

There’s a long list of things you might expect to happen during a hockey game—too many men penalties, line brawls, maybe even a fire alarm—but a uniformed police officer approaching your bench during live play? That wasn’t on my bingo card.

It happened during a crossover game in a town that wasn’t even in our regular loop. I was working the defensive end of the bench—so it had to be either the first or third period, the end closest to our zone. The play was active, the crowd was buzzing, and I was locked in on what we were doing on the ice. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I noticed something strange: a police officer, in full uniform, walking around the outside of the boards—through the player-only area.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. Maybe he was just doing a walk-through of the facility or responding to something elsewhere in the building. But a few seconds later, I glanced again—and this time, I saw him heading straight for our bench. And he was definitely coming with purpose.

Then it hit me—I knew him.

Under the hat, behind the badge, and wrapped in six years of growing up was a face I used to see every day during one unforgettable hockey season. He had been one of my players. A warrior of a defenseman. A leader. A guy I had the privilege of coaching for just one year—but who left a lasting impression.

I stepped off the bench—yes, right in the middle of the game—and met him just off the boards. My coaching partners probably thought I’d lost my mind. But in that moment, everything else could wait. Here stood a young man I’d last seen as a teenager—now a police officer, a husband, and a soon-to-be father.

Apparently, he had been driving past the rink in his patrol car, saw the game marquee out front, and recognized our team name. Something must’ve clicked—nostalgia, curiosity, or maybe just a bit of both—because he decided to pop in. When he entered the building and spotted me across the rink, he made a quick decision to slide over and say hello before heading back out on duty.

We only talked for a minute or two. But it was one of those moments I’ll never forget.

The Player He Was

When I first joined that team, I didn’t know much about him. He was just another name on a roster—another kid I was inheriting. But it didn’t take long to see he was cut from a different cloth.

He wasn’t flashy. He wasn’t loud. But he was a leader in every sense of the word. He wore an “A” on his sweater, but he was the leader. His voice wasn’t the loudest in the room, but it carried weight. When he spoke, his teammates listened. When he didn’t speak, his play said it all.

I’ll never forget a playoff game where he took a bad injury—he couldn’t put any weight on one leg. Most players in that situation would’ve gone to the dressing room, gotten undressed, maybe even headed to the hospital. Not him. He stayed on the bench. Standing when he could, leaning on the boards when he couldn’t. Coaching. Leading. Supporting. Just being there for his teammates. We won that game—on the road, against a heavily favoured opponent—because of efforts like his. (And just to be clear: I’m not saying players should forgo medical attention. But I am saying his commitment was unforgettable.)

He wasn’t just a defenseman. He was the kind of player who’d willingly stand in front of the net on the power play. Block shots without hesitation. Kill penalties—even when injured. He’d volunteer to do whatever the team needed, even when we were trying to talk him out of it.

He was, without question, the ultimate team guy.

The Long Game: What Hockey Really Builds

That quick moment behind the bench reminded me what this game is truly about. We spend so much time focused on the short-term—wins, goals, line combos, and special team percentages—that we sometimes forget the real payoff doesn’t happen during the season. It happens years down the line.

That night, looking at one of my former players not in hockey gear but in police blues, I wasn’t thinking about a single shift, drill, or speech. I was thinking about the man he’d become—and how proud I was to have played even a small part in his journey.

I’ve been lucky enough to stay connected with him on social media. Since that season, he’s gotten married, started a family, and built a life of service and responsibility. And the quiet strength he carries today? It’s the same strength he showed on the ice.

There’s no doubt in my mind: part of who he became was shaped by the game—and how he chose to show up within it.

Lessons for Players: You’re Always Becoming Someone

If you’re a player reading this, here’s what I want you to know: this game is so much bigger than what shows up on the scoresheet.

You’re not just skating for goals or assists. You’re building habits. You’re learning how to lead.

You’re learning how to show up when it’s hard—when you’re tired, frustrated, or even hurt.

The player I just told you about? He wasn’t the flashiest or highest-scoring guy on the team—but he was the heartbeat. He didn’t just play the game. He represented everything the game is supposed to teach us.

So block the shot. Show up early. Be engaged, even when you’re not in the lineup. Because every one of those decisions is shaping the person you’re becoming.

One day, years from now, someone might remember you—not for your stats, but for your character.

And long after your last game, that’s what will still be with you.

Lessons for Parents: The Real Value Isn’t in the Stats

As a parent, it’s easy to get caught up in ice time, point totals, and whether your kid is on the top line. But the truth is, those numbers fade fast. The growth that happens through adversity, responsibility, and being part of something bigger? That sticks.

Your child may never play beyond minor hockey. They might not crack a junior roster. But that doesn’t mean the game hasn’t done its job.

Celebrate the little things: how they bounce back from a tough shift. How they respond to a coach’s challenge. How they carry themselves when things don’t go their way.

That player I reconnected with? He never won a league MVP. But he’s a person of real value.

He lives with purpose, serves his community, and leads his family with the same quiet strength he once brought to the room.

Isn’t that what we ultimately want for our kids?

Lessons for Coaches: What We Do Matters—Even When We Don’t See It Right Away

To the coaches reading this—whether you’re running a U11 team or a junior program—please hear this: you are making a difference, even when it doesn’t always feel like it.

We put in the time, the energy, the early mornings, the tough conversations. We invest ourselves fully. And often, the results don’t show up until much later.

But then something like this happens.

A former player shows up during a game—not to ask for a job or relive a big goal, but just to say hello. To check in. To say thank you.

That’s the payoff. Not the banners. Not the hardware. Not even the wins.

That.

Sometimes, we coach a player for one season and never hear from them again. Other times, they circle back—years later—and remind us that what we did mattered.

So keep teaching. Keep pushing. Keep caring.

Your impact echoes in ways you might never see—but it’s real.

The Game Doesn’t End When the Clock Runs Out

That night at the rink won’t show up on any stat sheet. It won’t get shared in a highlight reel. But it’ll always be one of my favourite hockey memories.

Because in that brief moment, standing beside the bench, I saw the full arc of what coaching is about. The game gave something to that player. And maybe, just maybe, I did too.

He wasn’t there to break up a fight. He wasn’t called in for a disturbance. He just popped in to say hi.

To say thanks.

And maybe—to remind me, and all of us—that this game, at its best, doesn’t end when the buzzer sounds.

It lives on—in who we become.

And in how we choose to show up long after the final whistle.

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.