We’ve all been there.

A tournament 45 minutes outside a third-tier city.
Three-star hotel.
Rink. Lobby. Repeat.
Vacation days disappearing faster than expected.

The parent playdate goes a little too long.
The next morning…the idea of the gym, reading, or anything beyond breathing and blinking feels like a stretch.

A gritless weekend.

And on its own, that’s fine.

But when weekends like this stack up, something subtle happens:

You don’t fall apart…
You just start to drift.

We’ve talked before about how earning grit daily reduces anxiety.

Not because it’s intense—but because it keeps you aligned with yourself.

The challenge is that most of us are years removed from school—the last time structure did that work for us.

Back then:

• practice
• tests
• routines
• expectations

You were guided into growth.

Then that structure disappears.

And you enter a new node.

More freedom.
Fewer constraints.
More choices.

And that’s where the path starts to separate.

Think about it this way:

Your life moves through nodes—new environments, new phases.

Within each node:

• each day is a smaller node
• each decision, a smaller one still

And quietly, those decisions compound.

There’s also something else happening:

You have an idea of who you could be in that environment.
A projected path.

When your daily actions don’t match that path, a gap forms.

The identity gap.

You might not notice it right away.
But you’ll feel it.

As friction.
As low-level anxiety.
As a sense that you’re slightly off.

And here’s the part that matters:

You don’t close that gap all at once.

You close it inside the day.

Tournament weekends are a perfect example.

They’re a new node:

• different environment
• less structure
• more opportunities to drift

So the question isn’t:
“Do I overhaul everything?”

It’s simpler than that.

Can you live inside the node—just a little differently?

• 10 minutes on the treadmill
• a few pages of a book
• a moment to think instead of scroll

Not perfect.
Just intentional.

Because your kids are trying to build something on the ice.

And whether you realize it or not—you are too.

Small decisions.
Repeated.
That’s the path.

Find. A. Way.

Greg

The post The Path of Identity first appeared on Grit Kore.

We’ve all heard it:

“Kids these days aren’t built like we were.”

And honestly… that’s true.

But not for the reason people think.

It’s not that kids are softer.

It’s that they’re growing up in a completely different environment—one we weren’t built for either.

How We Got Here

Go back 150 years.

Your world was small.

• You were the farmer’s kid

• The blacksmith’s kid

• The best (or worst) at something… within a 10-mile radius

And that was enough.

Your identity was:

• local

• stable

• rarely challenged

You didn’t wake up wondering how you compared to the top 1% of humanity.

Then came radio.

Suddenly, you became aware:

“Oh… there are other ways to live.”

But still—your actual competition stayed local.

Then TV showed up.

Now you didn’t just hear about other people—you saw them.

• better athletes

• better looking people

• better lives

Comparison started creeping in.

Then came the internet.

Then social media.

And now?

A 12-year-old kid can compare themselves to:

• the best athlete

• the funniest creator

• the most attractive person

• the richest lifestyle

…all before lunch.

The New Reality

Kids today don’t grow up thinking:

“I might be the best.”

They grow up knowing:

“There are thousands of people better than me.”

Even if that’s just a snapshot in time.

That changes things.

Because it introduces pressure before identity is fully formed.

Social Media and Mental Distress

Now layer this on top:

• constant exposure

• constant comparison

• constant feedback

It’s like getting performance reviews… all day… for your entire life.

Even for things you don’t care about.

That’s exhausting.

What the data shows

Across countries like the U.S., Sweden, and Finland, we see:

• social media use increasing

• mental distress increasing alongside it

Not perfectly.

Not causation.

But directionally—especially in the U.S.—it’s hard to ignore.

The Identity Formula (Simplified)

Here’s the idea in plain English:

Identity grows when kids do real things, consistently, even when it’s hard.

And it slows—or even reverses—when:

• they’re doing things just to be seen

• they don’t actually care about what they’re doing

• they start believing they’re “not good enough”

• they avoid discomfort

If you want the formula:

Identity Growth = (Capability × Real Effort × Tolerance for Discomfort^2)

– (Performing for others + Negative self-perception × Avoidance)

Yeah… it looks like math.

But it’s actually pretty simple:

Do real things + stick with them = growth

Fake it + avoid hard things = drift (or worse)

Where It Goes Wrong

Here’s the subtle trap.

Kids are actually pretty good at just… doing things.

• playing

• trying

• improving

They don’t naturally sit around thinking about their “personal brand.”

But then adults step in.

• “Look at this kid”

• “This is what elite looks like”

• “You need to be here”

Now the activity shifts from:

play → performance

And from:

engagement → signaling

That’s when identity starts to wobble.

Why This Matters

Because over time:

• real engagement builds identity

• performative engagement erodes it

And if perception becomes the main driver?

Kids stop doing things to improve…

and start doing things to be seen.

This Is Where Grit Comes In

Grit isn’t just toughness.

It’s the ability to stay engaged in something real—

even when it’s hard,

even when you’re not the best,

even when the world is telling you to stop.

In today’s environment, grit is what keeps kids building on the left side of the equation—when everything around them is pulling them to the right.

In a world of constant comparison, grit is what keeps a child moving forward anyway.

The Hard Truth

We can’t remove the world they’re growing up in.

They will see:

• better players

• better students

• better everything

But that’s not the real problem.

The problem is:

how much weight we put on that comparison

What Actually Helps

If you look back at the formula, the answer is pretty simple:

Focus on the left side.

• real effort

• consistency

• discomfort

And reduce the weight of:

• perception

• constant evaluation

Simple Reframe

Instead of:

“How do I compare?”

Shift to:

“Did I actually show up today?”

Why This Matters for Mental Health

If you look at the formula, mental distress isn’t random.

It lives on the right side:

• comparing

• signaling

• worrying about how you’re perceived

The more time a child spends there, the more distress builds.

But here’s the important part:

Time spent on the left side crowds out the right.

When kids are:

• engaged

• working at something real

• pushing through difficulty

They’re not stuck thinking about themselves.

They’re just… doing.

Simple way to think about it

You don’t think your way out of mental distress.

You engage your way out of it.

For Parents

For parents, the job is simple—but not easy:

Help your kids fall in love with the left side of the formula.

Because that’s where identity is built.

And it’s also where mental distress starts to fade.

Everything else is noise.

Find. A. Way.

Greg

The post Why Grit Matters first appeared on Grit Kore.

This week felt like a live experiment.

Daryl Jones — a.k.a. Jonesy, a.k.a. the real most interesting man in the world, a.k.a. The Gold Coast’s Most Eligible Bachelor (office hours: M–F 8pm–12am, Sa–Su 9pm) — announced he had “acquired” two major youth hockey organizations.

The language alone — straight out of Harvard Business School — should have been the giveaway.

It wasn’t.

It was congratulated.

It was criticized.

It was shared.

It was believed.

On April Fool’s.

Nearly ⅓ of the youth hockey registration in the northeast had seen the post in less than 24 hours.

That got us thinking:

Do people under pressure accept information faster?

Research suggests yes.

Which leads to a bigger question:

Are we living in a time of elevated anxiety?

Not the sharp, obvious kind — but something quieter.

Ambient anxiety: a persistent, low-level unease that isn’t tied to a specific threat, but subtly shapes how we perceive and respond to the world.

The Grit Kore Anxiety Index

To explore this, we combined market volatility (VIX) with Google search behavior to build the Grit Kore Anxiety Index

What we see:

• A noticeable rise beginning around 2015
• A step-change post-2020
• A new baseline of elevated ambient anxiety

Why this matters

A friend — whose father and brother both played in the NHL — shared something interesting.

Growing up, his mom constantly tracked what other prospects were doing.

Now that their careers are over… she follows politics with the same intensity.

The outlet changed.

The behavior didn’t.

So I asked him:

“Was that awareness helpful?”

His answer:

“No. If anything, it probably made things worse.”

The takeaway

Anxiety doesn’t just exist — it moves.

From hockey… to school… to careers… to politics.

And if we’re not aware of it, it starts to shape:

• how we think
• how we react
• how we parent

The challenge

As parents, coaches, and leaders, we need to recognize:

1. Ambient anxiety is real
2. It influences behavior more than we think
3. We have a choice in how we respond to it

Take time to:

• move your body
• slow your mind
• create space

Because if we don’t…

this ambient anxiety doesn’t just affect us — it transfers to our kids.

Find. A. Way.

Greg

Related: Hockey Tryouts and Your Kid’s Identity — tryout season is when anxiety peaks most. Also read: How to Build Confidence in Youth Hockey. Browse more on the Hockey Parents Resource Guide.

See all resources: Hockey Parents Resource Guide

The post Grit Kore Anxiety Index first appeared on Grit Kore.

A few years ago, that word was grit.

It fit the game perfectly. Hockey is a little grimy. A little chaotic. It rewards the player who keeps going when things aren’t clean.

But when we tried to define grit, it got surprisingly hard.

The more we talked about it, the more vague it became.

Around that same time, we were working on a series of children’s books with former NHL players Matt Moulson and Mike Komisarek—guys who played over a decade of pro hockey, despite taking very unlikely paths to get there.

We spent hours talking with them.

Not about systems. Not about skill.

About how they actually made it.

And a pattern kept showing up.

They all had:

• a deep passion for the game
• an unrelenting commitment to their craft
• a strong sense of accountability

But those things weren’t enough on their own.

What tied everything together was something else:

They could handle discomfort.

They could take failure, pressure, doubt, bad games, setbacks—and keep going anyway.

So we tried to simplify it.

If you think about it structurally:

Grit = DT × P × C × A

Where:

• DT = Discomfort Tolerance
• P = Passion
• C = Commitment
• A = Accountability

The key variable is DT.

Because without it, the rest don’t hold up.

You can be passionate—but quit when it gets hard.

You can be committed—but fade under pressure.

You can be accountable—but get defensive when things go wrong.

Discomfort tolerance is what allows the other traits to actually show up.

The higher it is, the deeper everything else can go.

So if that’s true, the question becomes:

How do we build it?

Not through speeches.

Not through motivation.

But through experience.

• Let kids fail—and let them respond
• Encourage them to chase something difficult
• Remove shortcuts
• Model it ourselves

I used to think we connected because of hockey.

We didn’t.

We connected because we share a higher tolerance for discomfort.

That pulls you closer to reality—

and reality is where better conversations happen.

If we want our kids to grow, we have to let them get uncomfortable.

That’s what brings them closer to reality—where they learn their strengths, their weaknesses, and who they really are.

That’s where they push themselves.

That’s where they grow.

Our job isn’t to make it easier.

It’s to stand beside them while they go through it.

Because the more we protect them from discomfort,

the more we hold them back from developing grit.

Find. A. Way.

Greg

The post Defining Grit first appeared on Grit Kore.

If anxious energy could be measured with a thermometer, Fairfield County would be in the middle of a heat wave.

It’s hockey tryout season.

The nervous chatter.

The heightened gossip.

The speculative “I heard they’re taking six forwards from the A team…”

All hallmarks of tryout uncertainty.

But here’s the question:

Why are the parents so anxious?

They’re not skating.

They’re not doing the drills.

They’re definitely not bag skating at the end of practice.

Yet every year, the anxiety levels spike like clockwork.

Trying to understand this behavior led us to a framework we jokingly call:

The Symbolic Status Dynamics Model (SSDM).

Think of it as a slightly humorous way to explain why otherwise rational adults start behaving like stock traders during an earnings call the moment tryouts begin.

Our Primitive Beginnings

A few years ago, during a deep dive on developing “alpha mentality” in players with another coach, we stumbled across the documentary Chimp Empire.

It’s a fascinating look at the hierarchical structure inside chimp tribes.

The biggest takeaway?

Above all else, the chimps want to belong to the tribe.

And two million years after Homo erectus, humans are not that different.

We still want to belong.

The SSDM

Within any group, some people simply want to belong.

Others want to belong… and stand out.

Those are the alphas.

But here’s the problem at the top of the income chain:

differentiation becomes difficult.

Nice houses? Everyone has one.

Nice cars? Plenty in the parking lot.

Nice vacations? Instagram confirms.

But children’s placement in schools, teams, and clubs?

That’s scarce.

Scarcity creates status signals.

And suddenly a youth hockey team starts to look a little bit like a social sorting machine.

When kids become the conduit to belonging to an “elite” group—whether it’s hockey, schools, or clubs—parental anxiety begins to resemble the needle on a Richter scale during a megathrust earthquake.

Every stride in tryouts is analyzed.

Every shift becomes a referendum on social standing.

Every rumor spreads like breaking news.

Which brings us to the parents.

The Parent Archetypes of SSDM

Over time we’ve noticed a few recurring parent archetypes in youth hockey ecosystems.

You’ll probably recognize at least one.

Possibly yourself.

1. Legacy Hockey Parent

Status Relationship: Identity continuity

These are the classic “hockey families.”

Mom or dad played.

The garage smells faintly of old equipment.

There may be framed team photos somewhere in the house.

For them, hockey isn’t just a sport.

It’s family culture.

They want their kids to keep playing because it preserves a piece of family identity. When the kids make teams, the lineage continues.

Strengths:

• Deep understanding of the game
• Respect for the “Code”

Risk:

• Hockey identity can become inherited rather than chosen.

2. Cultural Convert

Status Relationship: Identity adoption

Every team has one.

These are parents who didn’t grow up in hockey, but quickly become enthusiastic adopters of the culture.

They buy the gear.

They learn the slang.

They suddenly have opinions about power play formations.

Because they didn’t grow up inside the system, they often rely on others to interpret development pathways. Sometimes that leads to… ambitious development plans.

Strengths:

• High enthusiasm
• Willingness to learn

Risk:

• Vulnerable to the more extreme corners of the “development industry.”

3. Optimizer

Status Relationship: Status engineering

The Optimizer treats youth hockey like a strategic environment.

They understand the inner workings of teams and organizations.

They may help coordinate apparel, ice time, or team logistics. In return, they gain proximity to decision‑makers and elevated status within the parent ecosystem.

Their child doesn’t just belong to the team.

The family becomes part of the organizational machinery.

Strengths:

• Highly engaged
• Resourceful

Risk:

• Childhood can start to resemble project management.

4. Status Narrator

Status Relationship: Narrative protection

You’ve heard this one before.

A parent explaining an injustice.

A retelling of why a roster decision doesn’t make sense.

A carefully constructed story about how great a kid played.

Status Narrators are less focused on the game itself and more focused on protecting the narrative surrounding their child’s place in the hockey community.

Strengths:

• Passionate advocates

Risk:

• Reality occasionally bends under the weight of storytelling.

5. Process Parent

Status Relationship: Status rejection

The Process Parent is a bit old school.

They may or may not have played hockey, but they understand the Code.

Effort matters.

Sacrifice matters.

Backchecking matters.

Their emotional reaction is roughly the same whether their kid scores a goal, blocks a shot, or hustles back on defense.

The focus is simple:

Effort for the team.

Strengths:

• Stable mindset
• Long‑term development focus

Risk:

• Their kid may roll their eyes when hearing “earn your grit” for the 200th time.

Why Youth Hockey Feels Different Now

Something you often hear from former NHL players is:

“Youth hockey is so different from when we grew up.”

And they’re right.

Today’s youth hockey ecosystem includes:

• Team parties
• Parent social networks
• Bars at rinks
• Matching team apparel
• Group chats that never sleep

In other words, the parent ecosystem around the team has grown dramatically.

Parents are no longer just spectators.

They’re part of the tribe.

The Glass Around the Rink

Maybe the hockey gods knew what they were doing when they surrounded the rink with glass.

Not just to stop pucks.

But maybe to protect the kids from real‑time parental participation in the game.

Because while tryout season can feel like a high‑stakes social experiment, the truth is much simpler:

Kids just want to play hockey.

And if we’re lucky, maybe the tribe can remember that too.

Find. A. Way.

Greg

Take the survey

The post The Symbolic Status Dynamics Model (SSDM) first appeared on Grit Kore.

This isn’t about coaches.

This isn’t about ice time.

This isn’t about practice plans.

This is about us.

The Hard Truth

On a per‑capita basis, Connecticut — along with New York and New Jersey — produces far fewer high‑level hockey players than comparable regions.

That includes:

• NCAA Division I
• National team representation
• NHL development pathways

For years, the explanation has always been external:

• “The coaches aren’t good enough.”
• “The practices aren’t structured right.”
• “We don’t have enough ice.”
• “The Midwest has better visibility.”

Those explanations are comfortable.

They are also incomplete.

I Went Looking for the Real Reason

Like many of you, I once believed the “Minnesota Model” explained everything — free play, community rinks, less pressure.

Then I went there.

The parents are just as intense.

The stakes are just as high.

The difference is not effort or execution.

So I kept digging.

What the Data Actually Shows

When you look at hockey outcomes globally and domestically, one pattern keeps showing up:

High income inequality → low trust

Low trust → weak team‑sport development

This isn’t theory.

This is measured.

Countries with:

• Low inequality
• High social trust

Produce far more elite hockey players per registered youth player than countries with:

• High inequality
• Low trust

The United States ranks worst among major hockey nations on this measure.

That should stop everyone cold.

Why Trust Matters in Hockey

Hockey is not an individual sport.

It requires:

• Sacrifice without immediate reward
• Trust that your teammate will do their job
• Willingness to defer credit
• Comfort being uncomfortable for the group

If kids are raised in environments where:

• Everything is transactional
• Adults intervene constantly
• Teammates are viewed as competitors
• Every shift is an audition
• Individual achievement is celebrated on social media

Then trust never develops.

And without trust, elite team performance collapses.

Trust Is Measurable

To test this, I looked at characteristics of high‑trust and low‑trust societies using the World Bank survey that asks:

“Generally speaking, would you say that most people can be trusted?”

Not surprisingly, we see Finland and Sweden at the top of the trust scale.

So now we can connect the chain:

High inequality → low trust

Low trust → poor team‑sport outcomes

This is not philosophical.

It is structural.

Now Apply This Locally

If this relationship is real, we should see it inside the United States as well.

I applied the same framework at the state level:

• State income inequality
• Adjusted NCAA Division I representation
• Youth registration as the denominator

The result?

The NY–NJ–CT region underperforms every major hockey state.

At that point, the conclusion becomes uncomfortable.

The tri‑state area is the worst high‑level hockey‑producing region in the country.

Not because kids don’t work hard.

Not because coaches don’t care.

But because the environment undermines team behavior.

The Projection Trap

When confronted with this, the instinct is to project outward:

• Blame coaches
• Change teams
• Add privates
• Demand more ice
• Control outcomes

That instinct is part of the problem.

You cannot coach trust into a player if it is undermined at home.

The Code (And Whether We Live It)

Ask yourself honestly:

• Do we allow kids to fail without intervening?
• Do we let coaches coach?
• Do we value team success over individual visibility?
• Do we model restraint, patience, and humility?
• Do we treat teammates as partners, not obstacles?

If the answer is no, that’s okay.

But then step aside and let the environment teach what you cannot.

The Bottom Line

Private coaching.

Over‑management.

Early specialization.

Constant comparison.

Adult‑driven careers.

The data is clear:

None of it works in the long run.

Elite hockey players come from environments where:

• Trust is earned
• Roles are accepted
• Sacrifice is normalized
• Adults do less, not more

Final Word

Enjoy your kid’s journey as a passenger, not the driver.

Let coaches teach the Code.

Let teams function as teams.

Let kids learn to trust each other.

Because the data is telling us something powerful — whether we like it or not.

Team sports like hockey are an invaluable vehicle for teaching kids about life.

They teach trust.

They teach sacrifice.

They teach how to be part of something bigger than yourself.

But only if adults allow it.

Please let the game, and the Code, do its job.

Find. A. Way.

— Greg

The post Why NY, NJ, and CT Lag in Elite Hockey Development (And It’s Not Coaching) first appeared on Grit Kore.

One of the perks of being a hockey geek who actually tracks what happens on the ice is that you get to move past opinions and look at reality. Numbers don’t lie, but they also don’t tell the whole story unless you know how to read them.

A few weeks ago, we talked about how half-ice and full-ice games both have real benefits. After reviewing our latest Grit Score data, that conclusion still holds true, but with an important twist.

Here’s what we’re seeing:

• Total Grit Scores are higher on half ice
• Energy, engagement, and excitement are higher on full ice

And in a long hockey season, both of those things matter.

What We Measured

We compared one full-ice game against the average of two half-ice games versus the same opponent. Here’s what showed up:

What This Really Means

The fundamentals, heads-up plays and forced turnovers, are almost the same on both surfaces. That tells us the kids are still competing and reading the game.

But the “grit behaviors”,  backchecks, forechecks, and blocked shots, drop way off on full ice. That’s because half ice creates more:

• puck touches
• decision-making
• close-quarter battles
• repetition

From a pure development standpoint, half ice is incredibly powerful.

But here’s the part that doesn’t show up in a spreadsheet.

The Human Factor: Energy & Engagement

We’re deep into the season now. Bodies are tired. Minds are tired. And kids want to feel like they’re playing real hockey.

When a kid stops having fun, their brain — especially the prefrontal cortex, the part responsible for focus, learning, and self-regulation — starts to shut down. You can give them all the reps in the world, but if they’re not emotionally engaged, those reps don’t stick.

That’s what we’re seeing on half ice right now. The kids are going through the motions.

Full ice changes that.

It feels new.

It feels bigger.

It feels like “the Show.”

And suddenly kids are:

• thinking about their shifts
• replaying moments in their head
• caring about positioning
• wanting to improve

That mental activation is just as important as physical reps.

So What’s the Takeaway?

This data doesn’t say half ice is wrong.

It says timing matters.

Early in the season, half ice is gold for skill development.

As the season wears on, kids need a spark — and full ice gives them that.

If anything, this supports a simple, kid-centered approach:

Start small. Build skill. Then expand the game as their minds and motivation need a lift.

That’s how you keep kids growing, engaged, and loving the game — which is what motivates them to earn grit daily.

Find. A. Way.

Greg

Grit Kore Hocky Skills and Hockey IQ books click here

The post Revisiting Grit Scores: Full Ice vs. Half Ice first appeared on Grit Kore.

Two of the dirtiest little secrets in youth hockey:

1️⃣ Mite parents absolutely know the score of every game

2️⃣ Everyone says rankings “don’t matter”… while secretly refreshing them like the stock market

When my boys were in Mites, I’d hear legends about managers rearranging schedules like chess grandmasters just to boost a ranking. And people like me? We’d roll our eyes and say:

“Relax… most of these kids won’t even play high‑level hockey anyway.”

BUT… I couldn’t leave it alone.

Do PeeWee Major (U12) rankings actually predict future success?

So I dug in. I pulled old MyHockeyRankings data, matched it with PeeWee Quebec rosters, and tracked where those kids ended up using hockeydb. Honestly, I was fully expecting to prove rankings were meaningless. Instead… I proved the opposite.

What the data actually showed

The higher the team ranking, the more players eventually reached high‑level hockey. It wasn’t subtle, it looked almost like a perfect probability curve.

But here’s the important part: Rankings don’t create great players — great players create the ranking. Top teams usually have top athletes, deep pipelines, and better early development. The ranking is just a reflection of what’s already happening on the ice.

Where things get blurry…

Here’s where parents can accidentally lose the plot.

In some areas, the “race to the top team” starts way too early:

🏒 kids on the ice with private coaches multiple times a week before kindergarten

😤 parents scolding 8‑year‑olds for “poor effort” (I was once asked to ‘get in my five year-old’s face’.  I declined.)

💰 effort traded for privilege like it’s a contract negotiation

🎥scrutinizing every Livebarn clip

And here’s the twist:

None of this may actually be the reason those teams are ranked high. In many cases, the kids on top teams are simply the best natural athletes in the area. Before fast‑tracking your kid into a small army of private lessons so they can make a top‑10 team at 12… ask yourself:

“Was I one of the fastest runners in 5th or 6th grade?”

It sounds silly, but it’s a shockingly good proxy for raw athleticism.

And athleticism matters.

A lot.

But it’s still not everything.

And then I texted Matt Moulson…

After swallowing my pride, I messaged Matt Moulson (11 NHL seasons, Cornell, featured in our illustrated book MattyMo’s Grit Pile) and asked:

“What year did you get cut from the top youth team in Canada?”

Long pause…

Then:

“PW Major.”

If we believed rankings determined destiny, Matt would’ve been finished right there.

But the difference wasn’t the cut — it was his reaction.

There are two ways kids respond to being cut:

🥀 Victim mode:

“Coach is out to get me.”

🔥 Accountable mode:

“This is where I’m at. Time to work.”

Matt chose the second.

No excuses.

No blaming.

Even though his best friend’s dad cut him.

He wasn’t ready yet — and he owned it.

Then he went to work.

Every day.

Earned his grit instead of blaming others for not seeing what he saw.

The Real Conclusion

Rankings don’t define players. Players define rankings.

A cut isn’t a dead end, it’s a moment of truth.

Some kids break.

Some kids build.

And the ones who build?

They’re the ones who write their own ranking.

Find. A. Way.

Greg

The post Hockey Rankings & the Truth None of Us Want to Admit first appeared on Grit Kore.

Enter The Grit Kore Project—a free, community-driven initiative created to support youth athletes with daily mental strength exercises, physical workouts, and hockey-specific guidance. More than just a resource, our intention is to build a supportive, inclusive community where young athletes, their families, and mentors come together to develop grit, resilience, and character, building a foundation for life—on and off the ice

What Is the Grit Kore Project?

The Grit Kore Project is a collaborative effort uniting coaches, mental health professionals, athletic trainers, and sports nutritionists. Our mission? To help kids and teens grow stronger—mentally and physically—by giving them tools to develop grit, character, and resilience through consistent, daily practices.

We call it “earning grit”—a mindset that encourages young athletes to work on both their bodies and their minds every single day.

And the best part? It’s completely free.

Why Grit Kore Exists: A Personal Story Behind the Mission

The Grit Kore Project was born from a personal place. After experiencing several tragic losses in our local hockey community—and watching my own children begin their youth hockey journey—I saw firsthand how much the culture had changed.

What used to be a fun, character-building experience led by volunteer coaches has become transactional. Rankings, tryouts, private coaching—it all adds up, financially and emotionally. What was once about love for the game is now about chasing results. And that’s taken a toll on kids and families alike.

The Code—the unwritten values of sport like hard work, respect, integrity, and resilience—is being lost.

We created Grit Kore to defend that Code and bring it back to the center of youth sports.

Free Tools for Athletes: Daily Mental & Physical Workouts

Not every family can afford elite coaching or access to top-tier training. But every kid deserves a shot at success and self-belief.

That’s why we offer:

• Daily mindset exercises to build mental toughness and emotional regulation.
• Strength and conditioning workouts for young athletes at all levels.
• Hockey-specific training tips to grow confidence and improve performance.
• Ongoing encouragement from a community of professionals and mentors who care.

Whether a child is on a travel team or just getting started, Grit Kore gives them the tools to keep showing up, growing stronger, and learning to “Find A Way.”

Join the Movement: Calling All Coaches & Experts

Are you a coach, therapist, nutritionist, or trainer who wants to make a difference in the lives of young athletes?

We’re looking for like-minded professionals to contribute content, design exercises, or share encouragement with our community. If you can help us expand this free resource, we’ll feature your work on our website and social media—and proudly tag and credit you.

Let’s grow this mission together. Let’s build a culture that supports all kids, not just the ones who can pay for it.

Final Thoughts: This Is Our Promise. This Is Grit Kore.

The Grit Kore Project is more than just a free training platform. It’s a movement to bring heart, grit, and values back into youth sports—especially hockey.

We believe in giving kids tools to manage stress, overcome challenges, and become stronger human beings. And we believe in doing it without putting financial pressure on families.

This is our promise. This us. This is Grit Kore.

The post The Grit Kore Project: A Community for Youth Athlete Development, Resilience and Confidence first appeared on Grit Kore.

As a coach and a curious observer, I’m often standing on the edge of the rink watching players skate hard, dig for pucks, and battle—yet the effort levels vary wildly. One kid’s locked in: alert, hungry, fully alive.  Meanwhile, another teammate is floating around aimlessly, only engaging in easy plays.  

Why? Why does one kid show up ready to hunt, and another gathering low lying fruit?

I’ve had the chance to skate and skateboard alongside some of the biggest names in their sports. What sets them apart isn’t just talent or discipline. It’s passion—that hungry little beast inside that pushes them when no one’s watching.

At the Cube in NYC, I once watched Rodney Mullen repeat a 360 kickflip-to-nose-manual-to-nollie heel combo for over an hour. He was already landing it. But he just kept going. The point wasn’t the trick. It was the pursuit of his passion. (watch)

So: if passion is the difference-maker, where does it come from? And why does it run deeper in some kids than others?

Passion Brings Anxiety (And That’s Not a Bad Thing)

The deeper you care, the more you risk—and the more anxiety you’ll feel. That’s not a bug; it’s the fuel. Passion and anxiety are tied together.

Dwyane Wade’s emotional love letter to basketball (click here) says it all. He doesn’t focus on highlights—he talks about heartbreak, rejection, and staying in the game when it felt cruel. That’s passion. It’s raw. It’s vulnerable. And yes, it comes with anxiety.

In hockey terms: when a kid’s getting knocked down in a drill, getting up, and going again—that’s passion meeting failure. If there’s no desire to take on the anxiety of failure, maybe there’s no deep love yet. Or maybe… it’s not safe enough to risk failing.

To help understand this, let’s look at the upward sloping relationship between passion and anxiety.  As passion goes up, there are new levels of anxiety that a person has to accept:

The Key: Unconditional Love First

So where does deep caring come from?

To explore that, I talked with my good friend Scott Moulson (“ScoMo”), father of three elite hockey players—including an NHLer. What struck me most wasn’t his hockey knowledge—it was how he spoke about his kids. With pride. With emotion. With zero mention of stats or scholarships.  Rather, he focused on imparting the Code and pushing effort.

He loves his kids with or without the accomplishments.

That’s the key. That’s the oxygen for passion.

When a kid knows—truly knows—they are loved before the goal, before the win, before the “good game,” they’re free to go all in. To stumble. To fight. To risk everything, knowing they’re safe.

Make It Safe to Care Deeply

If your kid’s effort feels inconsistent, or if they “lack drive,” try asking:

Have I made it safe enough for them to care deeply?

A kid afraid to miss won’t shoot.

But a kid who feels safe, seen, and supported? That’s a kid who’ll take the shot—even if they miss. That’s a kid who stays after practice. Who welcomes and fights through the next level of anxiety.

Don’t get me wrong, there are hard lessons and truths that must be told.  The game is hard.  The game is honest.  And if a player isn’t staying true to the Code, there is a time and place for a harsh reality check (just ask ScoMo about that!)  

But the most important points ScoMo insisted on was his attunement and balancing when the kids needed a push or needed a friend.

Passion doesn’t start on the ice.

It starts at home.

So hug them. Embrace the Code. Celebrate the risk—not just the result.

Find. A. Way.

— Coach Greg

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The post Where Passion Comes From—and Why It Matters on the Ice first appeared on Grit Kore.