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

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

From the outside, it looked like I was just waiting for the race to start.
On the inside, I was doing something completely different.

I was calming my mind, controlling my breath, and silently rehearsing every stroke. I didn’t know the term “mental training” yet—but that’s exactly what it was. My coach had simply said:

“Close your eyes and visualize your race.”

That one cue became my first real lesson in how powerful the mind can be under pressure.

What Is Mental Training?

Mental training is any intentional practice that helps you strengthen your mind the way physical training strengthens your body. It can include:

• Visualization – mentally running through skills, plays, or races

• Breath work – using breathing to calm your nervous system and reset

• Self-talk – the way you speak to yourself before, during, and after performance

• Focus training – learning to tune out distractions and stay present

You don’t need to be a pro to benefit from this. Youth athletes, parents, coaches, and even people in high-pressure jobs all perform better when their mental game is strong.

Elite Athletes Do This Too

Most top athletes don’t just train their bodies—they train their minds.

Michael Phelps famously visualized each race before he ever hit the water: every stroke, every turn, every breath. Tennis champions, gymnasts, NHL veterans, and basketball stars do something similar. They use mental training to:

• Handle pressure

• Recover quickly from mistakes

• Stay confident and composed

• Protect their well-being in high-stress environments

“I would probably visualize a month or so in advance, just of what could happen, what I want to happen, and what I don’t want to happen” – Michael Phelps

Mental strength isn’t about being “tough.” It’s about having tools you can rely on when the moment gets big.

Why It Matters for Young Athletes (and Everyone Else)

At Grit Kore, we hear the same concerns again and again:

• Kids feel pressure from school, sports, and social media

• Parents worry about burnout

• Coaches see talented players shut down when things get hard

Mental training gives kids (and adults) a way to handle all of it.

The skills they practice in sports—focus, staying calm, bouncing back—don’t stay on the ice, turf, or pool deck. They show up in:

• Exams and tests

• Tryouts and auditions

• Job interviews and presentations

• Tough conversations and leadership moments

When we teach mental skills early, we’re not just building better athletes. We’re building more resilient humans.

A Simple Reset You Can Use Anywhere

Here’s the good news: mental training doesn’t have to be complicated, expensive, or time-consuming.

You don’t need a personal coach, a fancy app, or hours of silence.
You need about 30 seconds.

Try this simple breathing reset:

• Put your feet on the ground.

• Inhale slowly through your nose for 4 seconds.

• Hold for 2–3 seconds.

• Exhale gently through your mouth for 6 seconds.

• Repeat 3–5 times.

This tiny routine can help:

• Lower stress and anxiety

• Steady your heart rate

• Improve focus and reaction time

• Boost creativity and problem-solving

• Support better sleep and recovery

You can use it on the bench before a shift, in the locker room before a game, at your desk before a test, or in the car before a big conversation.

The Grit Kore Project: Stronger Minds, One Breath at a Time

As part of the Grit Kore Project, our goal is to make mental strength training simple and accessible for athletes, parents, and coaches.

We share:

• Quick breath work routines

• Easy visualization drills

• Practical mindset tools for handling pressure and bouncing back

Mental training doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be practiced.

Balance starts with a single breath. The more we use it, the more we realize that mental strength isn’t just for pros—it’s a daily skill that anyone can build, at any age, in any sport, and in any area of life.

Follow the Grit Kore Project for simple mental strength tips and exercises you can start using today—on the ice, on the field, in the classroom, and beyond.

Find. A. Way.

Anika

Related: What Is Hockey IQ? — understanding game intelligence is the foundation that makes mental training work. Also see the Hockey Parents Resource Guide for more.

See all resources: Hockey Parents Resource Guide

The post Going Into the Zone: The Power of Mental Training 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.