Afterword

It’s April 12, 2008, and I’m sitting in the Denver Pepsi Center ready to watch my son, Christian, and his Notre Dame teammates take on the Boston College Eagles in the NCCA Frozen Four Championship. I’m caught up in the fervor being transmitted throughout this packed house of college hockey fans. What an awesome way to spend my birthday!

Christian has battled over the last three years to become a regular member of the Fighting Irish and now he is playing as a top center on a team that had beaten all the odds to get to college hockey’s biggest showcase. His underdog team became the first No. 4 seed to knock off a No. 1 seed when they beat the New Hampshire Wildcats, 7–3, in the West Regional playoffs at Colorado Springs on March 28. They went on to beat the Michigan State Spartans the next night in the Regional finals, 3–1. The real shocker came on Thursday, April 10 when Notre Dame, in their first Frozen Four appearance, beat the Michigan Wolverines—the tournament’s overall top seed—in overtime by a score of 5–4. Besides the gut-wrenching battle that went on between the teams, there were two very scary moments when Christian went down to injury during that incredible game.

On his initial shift in the first period, Christian got hit behind the Michigan net and slowly skated himself off the ice on one leg. He did not play during the rest of the first period. His mother and I sat in stunned silence, full of parental concern. At the end of the first period he skated off the ice to the locker room looking all right, but we still were extremely nervous and had no idea what was wrong.

Christian came out for the second period and played the rest of the game. Although he looked fine in everyone else’s eyes, I could tell that everything was not right—he was not skating as well as he had been earlier in the game. When the overtime period started, he took the opening faceoff and went down like he had been shot by a sniper in the rafters. As he lay on the ice and attempted to get up, I could tell something was seriously wrong with his leg because he could not bend it. The referee stopped the game and Christian was assisted off the ice. My heart was in my throat. He disappeared from my sight and went into the hallway next to the player’s bench. A few minutes later, he was back on the bench and then on the ice. After the team won the game on a quick wrist shot from one of the rookies, I met Christian in the parking lot on his way to the bus. He told me that the team doctors suspected that he had torn his meniscus. Twice they had to manipulate his leg to pop and unlock his knee so he could continue to play. He then said there was no way he was not playing in the Frozen Four Championship Game and my heart exploded with fear and pride at the same time.

As I stood for the playing of the national anthem at the Frozen Four Championship game, I reflected (as tears welled up in my eyes) on how incredibly fortunate I am to have an outstanding young man for a son. Christian had set goals for himself as a young boy to be a good citizen, be a good student, and someday earn a scholarship to play college hockey, and he had achieved those goals. I was overwhelmed with emotion while I stood there with my hand over my heart listening to the “Star Spangled Banner” and looking down on my boy standing at attention with his gold helmet tucked under his arm, ready to play the game of his life. My mind flashed back to the first time he put on skates and I quickly ran through the years to now. A huge lump swelled up in my throat.

Although Notre Dame lost the game, it was still an awesome birthday for me. There is no greater reward than to play a positive role in a child’s development and to have that child grow up to be a wonderful person. In my 50-plus years in this world, I could not remember a more proud moment than this. Yet I won’t be surprised if there are more moments like this to come.