When you’re a [...]]]> The Coolest Hockey Bedroom EVER is a series of posts chronicling the transformation from a boring bedroom to a hockey heaven for my son. You can read about his dresser here, his locker here, his headboard here, and his hockey stick hooks here. Have an idea for the room? Comment below.

When you’re a little kid, you have popsicle sticks, pipe cleaners, and Elmer’s glue. When you’re an adult, you have broken composite hockey sticks, screws, and a power drill.

*GRUNT GRUNT GRUNT*

This is when you know you've 'made it'.

What we’re building today is a corner shelf. The Easter Bunny surprised our oldest with a small flat-screen TV and DVD player, but EB neglected to address the placement of said electronics, choosing instead to prop them up on an old living-room end table, within reach of the very curious twins we share our house with. Shame shame, rabbit. So rather than wait until one of the twins pulled the power cord hard enough to pull it down, I decided to build something to place the TV higher and out of reach.

Before You Start

The Support

This may be the most important step of all. What you want to do is identify your studs and make sure you anchor these first two pieces into them, particularly if you want this thing to hold a TV or other heavy items. Most houses have studs that are 16″ apart. My 1960′s-built house had one stud 10″ from the corner, then another one 16″ out from that. This meant that I had to go 26″ out from the corner — larger than I originally intended, but not a major problem.

Regardless of whether you’re using wooden sticks or composite, you’ll want to drill pilot holes slightly smaller than the hardware you’re using, and be sure said hardware is strong enough to support the weight of everything it will be holding. I had bolts on hand, so I used them in lieu of thinner screws.

Another important step is to ensure both supports are level — both with the floor and with each other. And leave a small gap between the sticks to run cabling, if necessary.

Click the thumbnails to enlarge.

I wasn’t exactly sure how I was going to go about this until I began cutting. I estimated the size of the first piece and cut opposing 45-degree angles. Back in the bedroom, I slid it back on the supports until it touched the wall. It left a small gap in the corner, perfect for routing cables.

Here is where it gets trickier. If you want all of your sticks to be flush against each other, you need to make sure that each subsequent stick is just larger than the one before it. Here’s how to do that.

The end result is that each subsequent stick will be the correct side and will be flush up against the one before it.

From there it’s just a matter of cutting enough sticks to complete the shelf. I used clear adhesive caulk to attach one stick to the next, making sure not to use too much. Then the final stick (the front piece of the shelf) was secured with two screws drilled into the support pieces. Since I used composite sticks, the whole unit is very light and strong, and can be disassembled with relative ease.

For my extra-large shelf, I used 17 individual pieces of stick (including the two support pieces), which was probably somewhere around 14 total hockey sticks (since the first few pieces are small). I have a TON of leftover blades and butt ends, though I did use a few taped butt ends to give it character. And of course I made sure that the front piece showed the “FOR PROFESSIONAL USE ONLY” label. Because that’s about as cool as it gets.

“I don’t feel good,” mumbled the five-year-old a few minutes shy of five in the morning.

“Hop in bed with us, buddy,” they invite. He obliges, nestles in between them, and throws up all over their comforter. The next five hours are not for the weak-of-stomach. [...]]]> February 26th, 2012 didn’t start out so great.

“I don’t feel good,” mumbled the five-year-old a few minutes shy of five in the morning.

“Hop in bed with us, buddy,” they invite. He obliges, nestles in between them, and throws up all over their comforter. The next five hours are not for the weak-of-stomach. He finally falls asleep again at 10.

Exhausted.

Empty.

It’s January 1990. Report card day. The nine-year-old is a good student, but his mind often wanders and his attention isn’t always as crisp as it should be. He opens the envelope and exhales loudly. It’s a good day. A good quarter.

At home, he hands the crumpled paper to his mother. He smiles. She smiles, then retreats up the stairs.

She returns with his booty: a pack of hockey stickers for his book. He cautiously tears open the wrapper so as not to rip the stickers. It’s a very good day — no duplicates and one Boston Bruin. He peels the backing off and affixes Andy Brickley to page five. All he needs is Craig Janney to complete the Bruins’ team page.

It’s a Thursday in 1992. The 11-year-old doesn’t read the paper, but he grabs the sports section once a week. On the bottom right hand side is the familiar ad where Collector’s Heaven, the local card store, lists their sales once a week. His allowance won’t get him very far on the other six days, but Thursdays are different.

His friend at school scored a Sergei Fedorov rookie card the week before. The boy’s eyes dart around the ad, then find gold: Upper Deck Hockey packs, 2-for-1. That Pavel Bure rookie card has to be in that store somewhere.

It’s June 1993. In an upstairs bedroom, on any number of rainy weekend days, the 12-year-old prepares for his task. Plastic card holders sit in a crooked pile. He peels off the tiny white circles, the dollar values written on them irrelevant now.

In cardboard boxes, arranged by team, sit the subjects of investigation. The ones in plastic holders get priority — these are the money cards, the rookies, the rare finds. He stares at the cover of the magazine in front of him, at Boston Bruins winger Cam Neely. He thumbs the pages and begins the process.

Upper Deck, 90-91. Card number 356. Jaromir Jagr, on draft day, shaking hands with some bald guy. The boy follows the tiny print in the magazine down to number 356, then slides his index finger to the right. He puts the card into the plastic holder, fixes a new white circle to the top right, and transcribes what the magazine told him.

$5.

Cha-ching.

January 18, 1996 is a beautiful winter day. Cold but sunny, the blue sky bounces off the windows of tall skyscrapers and old churches. The city of Boston buzzes with NHL activity as the foursome hop out of the car and head towards the convention center. The dads walk. But the 15-year-olds float. The NHL All-Star game will be played the following day at the Fleet Center, but today, hockey fans from far and wide converge on the NHL FANtasy Expo.

Inside, it’s what the boys expect heaven will be. The Stanley Cup is here. Hockey legends sign autographs along the back wall. They play video games, visit vendors, and put on NHL jerseys to get their pictures taken, the photos affixed to make-believe hockey cards. Oh, and the hockey cards. More hockey cards than they’ve ever seen in their lives. Free cards, cards for sale, cards commemorating the event and the All-Star game.

They get back in the car that evening and fall asleep on 93 North, the bulging bag of giveaways between their shoes.

It’s May 12, 2006. The twenty-something couple sit in the waiting room, nervous, holding each other’s clammy hands. Today is the day. They shuffle down the familiar hallway, into the familiar room. Lights dim. The technician mans the controls. Their anxious eyes strain to see…something. Or possibly nothing.

The technician sees something.

“You’re having a boy.”

His wife squeezes his hand. His eyes well. A boy. A son.

There are errands to be run on February 25th, 2012. The twins need diapers and formula, and dad needs to buy a new dress shirt with the gift certificate he got for Christmas. But the five-year-old went to sleep by himself last night and stayed in his bed all night, so as promised, he gets a reward.

Hand-in-hand, dad and son fight the wind on the Elm Street sidewalk. The five-year-old stares in awe at the windows, plastered with posters and pennants and t-shirts and hats. It’s a sports utopia.

Aptly-named Collector’s Heaven has changed locations a handful of times over the years, but it’s manned by the same couple that opened the store in 1979. The boy and his dad greet them. They’re the only ones in the store.

“It’s been a while,” says the dad. “I remember I used to steal the sports section from my dad to read your ads.”

“We still run ‘em,” says the owner.

The boy, dwarfed by rack upon rack of sports memoriabilia, is in awe. So is his dad.

“Daddy, let’s buy all of this stuff so the store is EMPTY!” says the boy.

The owners chuckle. The boy and his dad pick up a three-ring binder and some plastic sheets for the boy’s budding card collection. They also grab some hockey stickers for his book. All he needs is Tyler Seguin to complete the Bruins’ team page.

It’s noon on the 26th.

The comforter is in the washing machine, the twins are napping, and the boy is awake and feeling much better. Today is going to be a pajama Sunday, they decide. A DVD spins.

“Wait right here,” says the dad. He heads to the garage and arranges junk into unstable towers, uncovering something he hasn’t seen since the day they moved in. It’s a wooden chest that once sat at the foot of his bed at his parents’ old house. He opens it and stares at the junk inside: floppy disks, yearbooks from junior high and high school, a program from the senior prom.

And the cardboard boxes. He takes them out and stares at them. His name is scrawled in awkward cursive on one, the address of his parents’ old house on the side of another.

He’s startled.

“Daddy, are you looking for your hockey cards?”

“I am.”

The pajama-clad boy smiles.

“Daddy, do you know why I love hockey? Because you love hockey, and I love you.”

The 31-year-old gathers the boxes in his left arm and scoops up the five-year-old with his right. He’s 40lbs now, but still fits perfectly in the crook of his arm.

On the bedroom floor, they open the cardboard boxes. There’s one labeled “1996 NHL FANtasy Expo – Boston, MA”, full of cards commemorating the NHL All Star game that took place at the Fleet Center that year. Another has dividers inside with the cards broken out by team. Many are in plastic holders, their values written on tiny white stickers. They find a Pavel Bure rookie card.

“He’s wearing ROLLERBLADES!?” shrieks the younger boy.

–

“Is it ok if I use this case for mine?”, the boy asks.

In go Jason Spezza, Tim Thomas, and Dustin Brown.

They tear through the boxes, stopping at rookie cards for players long since retired and “Young Gun” cards for guys who barely made a dent in the league.

“Be gentle with these,” says the older boy.

“Who are the…Nor…Nor-di-cues?” says the younger one.

After a half hour, the cards go back into the boxes. They’re carried back to the wooden chest, where they’re situated underneath the yearbooks once again. Grabbing the lid to close it, the dad notices an old orange NHL logo. He moves a stack of old magazines and picks up his Panini NHL sticker book. 1989-1990.

Just about six years ago when we [...]]]> The Coolest Hockey Bedroom EVER is a series of posts chronicling the transformation from a boring bedroom to a hockey heaven for my toddler son. You can read about his dresser here, his locker here, and his headboard here. Have an idea for the room? Comment below.

Just about six years ago when we found out we were having a boy, I had visions of all-day backyard rink sessions, traveling to tournaments as a proud hockey dad, and having mini sticks and hockey gear strewn about the house. Of course I wouldn’t pressure him into anything, but with a little luck, I was going to have my hockey-playing son. Fast forward, and not only is he hockey-playing, but he’s hockey-watching, hockey-loving, and hockey-obsessing. He dreams about it, talks about it, and just about every piece of artwork he brings home from school references it. He ever drew a spoked ‘B’ on his lunchbox and put “Lucic” and “Chara” on his family tree. I can’t make this stuff up.

Of course, as great as I think all of this is, there’s a downside. With our twins almost walking, the hockey gear all over his room (and the living room, and the kitchen) needs to get up off the floor and in a safer place. We could always head to IKEA or Target and pick something up, but I told my wife I’d take care of it, and I did. Well, me and an old Sher-Wood.

My plan is to provide a place for him to hang his mini- and street-hockey gear, but obviously you could use this for hats, jerseys, and younger siblings if you so chose. And the build is super-easy. Here’s what I did.

Find a stick

For things like this, I actually prefer a wooden stick. The hooks will hold better and it’ll be a bit easier to work with than the composite stuff. All you need is a stick that was broken high on the shaft. Cut it, sand down any rogue slivers of fiberglass or wood, then throw on your best new tape job. If you want authenticity, then dirty up the tape with the palm of a used glove and a puck.

Add the hooks

There are no rules here. Want 10 hooks? Use 10 hooks. I went with three, even though they come in 2-packs at my local big box store. I spaced them out evenly and used the included hardware.

Mount up!

I drilled a pair of pilot holes, then made sure the stick was level before marking the holes on the walls. I highly suggest either spacing the holes out so they’ll drill directly into a stud or using some sort of wall anchor. At some point your child is going to hang off the thing (or pull hard on something that’s hanging on a hook), so you want to make sure you’re not relying on drywall exclusively.

Now to do something about all this artwork he brings home…

This Saturday, February 25, marks the second annual Big Apple Pond Hockey Classic, held on The Pond at Bryant Park in Midtown Manhattan.

“There’s a [...]]]> They say Manhattan is the city that never sleeps. For those of us situated outside the five boroughs, it’s time to stop sleeping on the city’s hockey culture.

This Saturday, February 25, marks the second annual Big Apple Pond Hockey Classic, held on The Pond at Bryant Park in Midtown Manhattan.

“There’s a strong hockey culture in New York City,” says tournament director Grant Hewit. “Many players would get together with their teammates from NYC and play in the pond hockey events around the country and in Canada, but I’m sure many players never expected to be able to play pond hockey in the city.”

The event, which will feature eight teams battling for pond hockey supremacy on the halved Bryant Park ice surface, blends the hustle and bustle of the city with the peaceful serenity of a day on the local pond. Dwarfed by skyscrapers and surrounded by the ever-moving traffic of the city, the BAPHC allows participants to slow down and rewind the clock a bit.

“I really think we’ve got something special going on down here in NYC,” said Hewit. “It’s a mixture of the nostalgic, romantic side of hockey — playing outside, in a style that many grew up playing — coupled with the environment of playing smack in the middle of midtown Manhattan.”

To commemorate the event’s second year, organizers tabbed friend and local artist Vincent Ricasio to create a limited-run print. An accomplished artist in the world of lacrosse and owner of The Art of Lax, Vinnie agreed to produce a print that would capture not only the spirit of the game, but this particular game’s location as well.

“Over and over last year guys used the term “surreal” to describe playing in Bryant Park,” says Hewit. “I wanted to find a way to encompass the event all year, and the print just made sense to me.”

The print, seen below in its various stages and available at the event, depicts an old-fashioned one-on-one, with the artist’s creativity showing in the shadows. Instead of the players being mirrored on the ice surface, Ricasio used the silhouettes of two notable New York City skyscrapers.

The print is not the only enhancement to this year’s event, however. The tournament champion will be given an invite to next year’s International Pond Hockey Championships in Quebec, and the title game will be overseen by New Jersey Devils alum Ken Daneyko. There will also be a post-tourney celebration at The Australian, located on 38th between 5th and 6th Avenues.

In additon, Hewit’s event has teamed up to raise funds and awareness for the Hockey in Newark program. Hockey in Newark, which was profiled for Steve Chernoski’s Hockey In America – Part I, uses hockey as a foundation to promote academic success, good citizenship, and teamwork. The non-profit, which was established in 2003 and which has the backing of New Jersey Devils ownership, recent announced that two of its players would continue on to play college hockey. Their incredible history can be seen here.

So if you find yourself in midtown Manhattan this weekend, nestled in the shadows of behemoth skyscrapers and amidst the honking horns and squeaking brakes, listen for the sounds of rubber-disc-on-wood and the laughter of grown men acting like kids. It’s here that you’ll find Grant Hewit and his Big Apple Pond Hockey Classic. Stop by, say hi, grab a limited-run print, and breathe in the majestic beauty of rural North America, right in the middle of New York City.

Think you know which two buildings are represented in Vincent Ricasio’s drawing? Send us an email with your guess by 11:59pm on Friday, February 24th. We’ll draw one person’s name from a pool of correct guesses to win some BAPHC schwag.

Nick Peters, 5, readies for a shot on his backyard rink.

In these days of Playstations and iPods and Netflix and 3D [...]]]>

Nick Peters, 5, readies for a shot on his backyard rink.

In these days of Playstations and iPods and Netflix and 3D televisions, there is something so primally enjoyable about a twirl around one’s backyard rink. Whether it’s a skating party with two dozen of your closest, or a private one-on-one with a budding superstar whose wobbly ankles you once supported, the open-sky, fresh-air splendor of an outdoor rink evokes feelings unrivaled by anything powered with a battery. Backyard rinks are directly responsible for shrieks of laughter, overtime Cup-winners, bumps and bruises, and memories that last a lifetime. It is this writer’s view that the world would be a better place if there were more backyard rinks.

Sadly, the City of Cambridge is doing its part to make sure there is one less.

Gavin Peters, a Cambridge (MA) homeowner, father of two boys (five and three), and proud owner of a 24×28 Nicerink setup, received a phone call late last week. Because of the warm weather, a housing inspector had seen the rink and wanted to cite him for having a pool without a fence — as if we rinkbuilders needed salt in our warm-weather wounds. Peters was informed that a citation was not a certainty, but that they were looking into the code.

Two days later, a series of SIX separate citations, including one detailing a violation of the state sanitary code, several more violations of other building and zoning codes, as well as a demand to tear down the rink within seven days was handed down. Were the codes included in the citation clear and concise, perhaps a compromise would be in order, or a minor tweak to the rink design made next year to resolve the issue. But the code is clear as mud, and does not appear to address backyard rinks at all.

“It just lists a bunch of code, but it doesn’t even say it’s for my rink. Only because I’ve spoken to [the inspector] earlier about it do I know that’s what he means,” says Peters. “I want to put the rink up in future years, and I’m not really excited about getting into a really adversarial position with the inspectional services department.”

But in order to keep his rink going, that might be what he has to do. He shared the details of the six citations with me. The first two, violations of the 780 Code of Massachusetts Regulations, were difficult to find online. The third, a violation of 105 CMR 410.750(P), says:

(P) Any other violation of 105 CMR 410.000 not enumerated in 105 CMR 410.750(A) through (O) shall be deemed to be a condition which may endanger or materially impair the health or safety and well-being of an occupant upon the failure of the owner to remedy said condition within the time so ordered by the board of health.

“And so presumably the inspector saw a specific violation of part of 105 CMR 410, but unfortunately he didn’t say which,” says Peters. “105 CMR 410 is a 30 page long document, and the word rink isn’t anywhere in it. Neither is play or playground. Yard is only discussed a few times, and none seem relevant.”

The citations continue. The next three are specific to Cambridge zoning, and speak of accessory use. There are 14 subsections, and Peters assumes the City is referring to subsection (h):

(h) In Residence A, B, C, and C-1 Districts an accessory building shall not be located nearer than ten (10) feet to the principal building or nearer than five (5) feet to any side or rear lot line or nearer to the front lot line than the minimum setback in the zoning district.

The code goes on to define building as:

Building. Any structure built for support, shelter, or enclosure of persons, animals, chattels, or property of any kind.

Since I don’t know anyone who has built a rink to serve as support or shelter, I think it’s safe to say Mr. Peters is not in violation of this particular bit of code.

The last two citations, 5.30 and 5.31, are regarding land use, and dictate how much of the lot must be yard.

Every part of a required yard shall be open to the sky and unobstructed. Awnings, arbors, fences, flagpoles, recreational and laundry drying equipment and similar objects shall not be considered obstructions when located within a required yard.

“And I find myself again thinking, everything is OK,” Peters says. “The rink is structure, like a fence or flagpole, and it’s definitely recreational. I’m using my yard for exactly the intention of the zoning law — I’m using it for my family’s private recreation, in a way that is open to the outdoors, encourages sport, and is generally awesome.”

We completely agree.

Gavin Peters is willing to compromise. His boys are three and five, so he has the potential for a decade or more of backyard fun ahead of him. He wants to come to an amicable resolution. But by citing the Peters family and referencing six individual violations, it’s clear that the City of Cambridge is grasping at straws and using whatever legalese necessary to get the rink taken down. If his rink was too close to a sidewalk or road, it could simply be moved next year, or resized to create the appropriate buffer. But it doesn’t appear that it’s that simple. If it is, one would think the inspector would have just said so.

My major problem with this issue is not the rink or the specific zoning laws, however. My problem with this kind of issue is that those charged with interpreting and enforcing the complex legal code often fail to use a very important part of their brain: the part responsible for discretion. Might Gavin Peters be in violation of some obscure bit of code in the state or local building code? Perhaps — I’m not a lawyer or building inspector, and without the city making it clear what codes are being violated, it’s impossible to know for sure. But by focusing on the minutiae of the building code, we’re missing a more important point: that building a backyard rink and skating on it with one’s family is among the healthiest, most pure pursuits one can undertake in these (typically) cold New England winters. Building rinks, not staring blindly into the glow of a television, is EXACTLY the type of activity we should be promoting, not targeting for building code violations.

All over the world, hundreds of thousands of parents build rinks for their kids, inviting physical activity and improvisation and friendship and memories and hundreds of other things that skating’s indoor cousins cannot. Wayne Gretzky had a backyard rink. So did the Staal brothers, Taylor Hall, and childhood friends Sam Gagner and John Tavares. All had slabs of ice, contained within walls of plywood or plastic, that sat within the boundaries of their yard markers. They all had the opportunity to learn the game, to make mistakes, to try new moves, and to fall in love with the game like many players before them. Now, because of an overzealous local government and their nit-picky clan of inspectors, two Cambridge boys are having a similar opportunity jeopardized. Because of that, Gavin Peters will fight. And he’ll have a whole community standing right behind him.

Cambridge is best known as the home of Harvard University, one of the world’s most historic learning centers. Here’s hoping the inspector in charge of this matter uses his head.

While Geoff is not a hockey player, he is a dad to a hockey-playing boy who had [...]]]> According to his website, Geoff Dresser is “a worship leader and Covenant award nominated recording artist based in Winnipeg Manitoba”. And, after hearing this, he’ll be “that guy who wrote the backyard rink song that gave you goosebumps”.

While Geoff is not a hockey player, he is a dad to a hockey-playing boy who had an idea several years ago: to build a rink in his backyard. And so, like any good dad, he went ahead and built one.

From GeoffDresser.com:

A couple of years ago I found myself outside on a very cold December night flooding an outdoor rink. I’m not much of a skater and I don’t play hockey, but I have a son who loves hockey and somehow he convinced me that this rink was good idea, so there we were. It was a perfect night – very cold and very still. There was a full moon shining so brightly we could see our shadows in the rink as we flooded it. The constellation “Orion” was shining down at us. Orion is supposed be a hunter holding his bow, but that night he looked like a hockey player hoisting the Stanley Cup. My son and I worked late into the night, along with our neighbours, on that rink. Eventually, we finished flooding and headed back inside, exhausted, cold, and soaking wet. As we removed our coats and boots he gave me a hug and said “Thanks, Dad.” He just did it. I didn’t ask him to thank me… it just came right from his heart.

There are moments in life that that you wish you could preserve forever, that you wish you could somehow bottle them and return to them whenever you want to. The best way I know how to do that is to write a song. So I wrote a song about that perfect night I spent out flooding that rink with my son. I hope you enjoy it.

Admittedly, this isn’t typically the type of music I listen to. But if you close your eyes and put yourself on that ice, under those constellations, and replace his child with yours…well, the type of music really doesn’t matter. Because Geoff Dresser nails it. The cold nights. The wet boots. The frozen fingers. The ‘thank you’s’.

The Rink Song.