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.

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.

Which raises a strange question.

Why are parents so emotionally invested in something they are not actually participating in?

The players are the ones trying out. Not the parents.

Yet the reactions often suggest something deeper is happening.

To understand it, we have to ask a bigger question:

What is identity?

The Beginning

At the beginning of human history, identity was simple.

We lived in small tribes where survival depended on cooperation. Your place in the group depended on being capable and reliable. If you could contribute, you belonged.

Your identity wasn’t something you announced.

It was something the tribe observed through your actions.

Fast forward a few million years and the world looks very different.

Modern life is large, complex, and often anonymous. Many of us are no longer evaluated daily on whether we can help the tribe hunt, build shelter, or protect the group.

In that environment, it’s easy to feel… a little untethered.

How Identity Actually Forms

Identity doesn’t appear magically. It grows through experience.

It usually follows a cycle that looks something like this:

When we encounter difficulty, we are forced to reflect. Through reflection we learn our strengths and weaknesses. That understanding produces growth, which builds resilience.

And then the cycle repeats.

Over time, that cycle produces something powerful:

a stable sense of self.

Why Failure Matters

If this model is correct, failure is not something to avoid.

It’s actually the starting point of identity development.

Which means the early years of childhood should probably contain plenty of:

• setbacks
• disappointment
• difficult lessons

These experiences are not harmful. They are the raw material of identity.

What We Sometimes See Instead

Watching youth hockey tryouts, however, sometimes reveals a different pattern.

Parents scrambling to move teams.

Parents lobbying for roster spots.

Parents constructing elaborate explanations when outcomes don’t go their way.

Interestingly, the kids themselves often seem relatively unaffected.

Which raises another question:

If the child can tolerate the disappointment, who is the distress really coming from?

When Parents Lose Their Own Identity

A common path in modern life looks something like this:

• We go to school and begin forming our identity.
• We start a career and continue developing it.
• Then we have children.

And something subtle sometimes happens.

Our own identity development slows down or even pauses while we focus entirely on our children.

When that happens, something tempting appears: pre‑packaged identities.

“Hockey family.”

“Travel team parent.”

“Elite program.”

Without realizing it, our sense of self can become tethered to our children’s activities.

When that activity becomes uncertain — like during tryouts — it can feel like our own identity is suddenly under threat.

Why This Matters

The irony is that this behavior can unintentionally interfere with the very thing children need most.

Children build identity the same way adults do:

Through adversity.

When we try to remove every disappointment, protect every outcome, or engineer every path, we may actually be interrupting the cycle that builds resilience.

The Real Opportunity

Youth sports are not just about winning games or making teams.

They are incredible environments for learning:

• effort
• humility
• persistence
• failure
• growth

But that only works if both kids and parents are willing to tolerate the discomfort that comes with it.

The Challenge for Parents

Maybe the real lesson of tryout season isn’t about the kids at all.

Maybe it’s a reminder for parents.

To continue building our own identities.

To tolerate uncertainty.

To let our kids experience adversity.

And perhaps most importantly:

To remember that our children’s journey does not define who we are.

Find. A. Way.

Greg

Related: Hockey Anxiety in Kids — tryouts and anxiety go hand in hand. Also: How to Build Confidence in Youth Hockey. See everything on the Hockey Parents Resource Guide.

See all resources: Hockey Parents Resource Guide

The post Youth Hockey Tryouts and the Question of Identity 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.

They punch well above their weight in NHL representation. And for years, USA Hockey has studied the Finnish model—trying to decode what people often label as “skill development.”

But here’s the reality check.

If Finnish players were simply more skilled individually, you’d expect them to dominate the NHL’s skills competitions. They don’t. In fact, only a small handful of Finns have ever been singled out as true outliers in those events—the most famous example being Teemu Selänne, who stood out in the 1998 Puck Control Relay.

So if it isn’t raw stickhandling trophies… what is it?

What separates Finland shows up somewhere else entirely: five‑man connection, trust under pressure, and structure that doesn’t break when the game gets hard.

And yet, there’s still something the Finns do that we don’t quite replicate.

I recently had a great conversation with Vladislav Bespomoshchnov (Norwegian School of Sport Sciences) who half‑jokingly said:

“You know you’re watching Team Finland because you see all five players in the picture frame.”

That line stuck with me, because it says everything.

Sisu: The Mindset Behind the Five‑Man Game (why Finland punches above its weight in hockey)

🇫🇮 Finland plays a TEAM game, and that’s not accidental, it’s cultural. 

Finnish hockey is powered by a team mindset which can be captured in one word. sisu.

There is no direct translation in English. The closest comparison is grit, but even that falls short in some aspects. Sisu is a quiet, non‑wavering determination, the stubborn, unbreakable ability to keep going beyond perceived limits, especially when the odds aren’t in your favor. It isn’t loud. It isn’t flashy. It doesn’t need recognition. It’s about doing the work anyway and letting actions speak.

That mindset shows up every shift in Finnish hockey.

When Finland gets pinned in their zone, they don’t panic.

When they’re down a goal, they don’t freelance or cheat for offense.

They stay connected and focused as a team. They trust the next play. They keep coming, shift after shift. That’s what sisu looks like on skates.

Hockey Is the Ultimate Team Sport

I’ve always believed hockey is the ultimate team sport. You can’t hide. You can’t cherry‑pick. You can’t win without defending, supporting, and trusting the other four players on the ice.

I’m also an economist by training, which led me to ask a different question:

Are some countries naturally better aligned with team hockey, not just through coaching systems, but through how their societies function?

In other words, what if we copied the Finnish development model exactly, but dropped it into a different social environment? Would we still get Finnish‑style hockey?

Probably not.

Before asking what we should copy, we need to understand who we are.

A Quick Economics Detour (Stick With Me)

If you took economics at any point, you may remember the Gini coefficient, a measure of income inequality.

Lower Gini → more equal societies

Higher Gini → larger income gaps

When we look at the countries competing at the World Juniors, a pattern emerges:

The United States stands out immediately.

Zoom in even further, to hockey hotbeds like the Gold Coast of Fairfield County, and estimated Gini coefficients approach 0.60. That’s extremely high.

Why This Matters for Hockey

Income inequality doesn’t just shape economies.

It shapes behavior.

In higher‑inequality environments, people can buy independence:

• Private coaches
• Private skills trainers
• Private solutions to shared problems

In lower‑inequality environments, people rely more on:

• Systems
• Teammates
• Shared responsibility

That difference shows up on the ice.

This isn’t a value judgment. It’s a structural reality, and like any experiment, you don’t get the same outcome unless you recreate the same environment.

The Leafs Problem (Yes, I’m Going There)

I’ll admit it, I love beating up on the Leafs.

During the Auston Matthews era, Toronto’s roster Gini hovered around 0.50.

By contrast, recent Stanley Cup champions typically sit in the 0.42–0.47 range.

In plain language:

Cup winners have a bigger middle class.

More role players.

More shared responsibility.

Less dependence on one star solving everything.

That’s team hockey.

So What Should Parents Take Away?

Hockey is hard.

It demands offense and defense.

It demands trust, sacrifice, and interdependence.

If we live in highly unequal environments, we shouldn’t be surprised when:

• Players struggle with defensive buy‑in
• Kids over‑prioritize individual skill
• Team concepts take longer to click

Maybe the answer isn’t copying Finland’s drills.

Maybe it’s:

• Teaching the Code
• Valuing systems over shortcuts
• Spending less time chasing private fixes
• Spending more time teaching kids how to rely on each other

Because at the end of the day, hockey doesn’t reward insulation. It rewards connection. 

“Sisu is something that can’t be bought or copied, it’s built through shared struggle, a mindset to show up when your team needs you most.”

Find. A. Way.

— Greg

Watch Jussi Ahokas (Kitchener Rangers (OHL)) In episode 238 of the Glass and Out Podcast share the Finnish concept of “Sisu,” why you’ll always get better results when people enjoy the enviornment and why positionless hockey is the future of the game. Click here.

The post World Juniors – Why Finland Plays Five‑Man Hockey (And Why That Matters for Our Kids) 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.

A few years ago, I was out for a skate and found myself watching a Junior kid and thinking, “man, this guy is so dumb out there.” The words slipped out before I even realized what I was saying.

Then it hit me—I coach in the same area this kid grew up in. Whether I had him directly or not, I’m part of the system that shaped him. So if his hockey IQ is low, it’s not just his failure. It’s partly mine. Partly ours. That realization kicked off a rabbit hole that I’m still working through.

What is hockey IQ?

I started asking around. Friends of mine who got paid to play or coach the game gave me their take on the concept. The answers were insightful—each one touching on a different piece of the puzzle. But they didn’t quite snap together into something you could hand to a player or a parent and say, this is it. It was like trying to unify quantum mechanics with general relativity—lots of truths, no single theory.

None of the replies seemingly unified the concepts:

Mike Komisarek (11 seasons in the NHL, Defense, Wolverines, Player Development Coach-Vancouver Canucks, hockey dad) put it like this:

“Elite hockey IQ isn’t flashy plays, it’s obsessive execution of the simple, repeatable, unglamorous decisions that never hit the highlight reel. It’s cataloging the wins, owning the mistakes (chewing on them just long enough to learn, then letting them go), and immediately caring more about the next right play than the last screw-up or the scoresheet. It’s supporting the teammate who just got burned, because NHLers make tons of mistakes every night—and the best ones turn them into fuel, not anchors. Process pride. Relentless detail. Total commitment on every shift. That’s the common thread. That’s the standard.”

Max Pacioretty (17 seasons in the NHL, LW, Wolverines, coach/hockey dad) identified differences in payout/non-payout scenarios:

“Kids are obsessed with scoring goals and their hockey IQ seems just fine when they are in a position to score goals.  But their inability to care about the 99.9% of other plays that don’t directly result in a scoring chance is alarming.  So is it an IQ dilemma in other areas of the ice?  Or, is there just no more pride in stacking good plays and worrying about the process rather than the results (goals)?”

Blake Wheeler (16 seasons in the NHL, RW, Golden Gophers, coach/hockey dad) said:

“Competing to win battles, supporting teammates-knowing where and how to support the puck, and the details of doing your job (accountability).”

Steve Shirreffs (3 seasons in the AHL, Princeton All-American, Defense, Principal Granite State Capital, coach/hockey dad)

“The most basic principles of the game are protecting the front of your net, don’t turn the puck over at the blue lines, forecheck/backcheck, move the puck up the ice to teammates, follow the play/gap control, get shots on net.  When I think of someone with a high hockey IQ, I think of someone who is able to think the game to create offensive chances for himself or teammates.”

Daryl Jones (Yale Bulldog, former part-owner of the Phoenix Coyotes, Owner/Director of Research-Hedgeye, the Gold Coast’s Most Eligible Bachelor, The Real Most Interesting Man in the World, coach/hockey dad):

“When I think about hockey IQ skills, I believe they’re scanning, anticipation, risk/reward assessment, positioning with and without the puck, and awareness of the other team’s systems.” 

Matt Deschamps (AHL/ECHL, Black Bears, U. Michigan Assistant Coach, hockey dad):

“I think the basics of hockey IQ are simple, it’s seeing time and space.”

How was I to make sense of these seemingly disparate views?  The defensemen had a nuanced view from the forwards.  The coach had a very simple interpretation.  Was there any agreement?

Then I got a reply from Matt Moulson (11 seasons in the NHL, Big Red, LW, coach/hockey dad) that hit like a bag of pucks dropped from the rafters to the head—but in the best way.

“Hockey IQ starts with knowing yourself—really knowing what you’re capable of. Most so-called ‘dumb’ plays are just players overestimating their skillset and trying low-probability plays. Once you’re honest about what you can do, the game becomes a fluid puzzle. No two situations are the same, but patterns repeat. So you start solving problems in real time—based on your tools, your teammates’, your opponents’, and the context of the game. Every decision is a split-second calculation of risk vs. reward.”

That was it. That was the bridge.

The game isn’t just about smarts with the puck. It’s about being in tune—with yourself, your team, your opponent, and the game itself. That’s when I started thinking of hockey IQ in terms of layers. Overlapping rings, each one spinning at the same time.

Let me break it down.

One ring is the basic objective of the game: score more goals than the other team. Simple. Possess the puck longer. Regain it quicker. Capitalize more often. That’s the scoreboard layer.

The next ring is the game in motion—reading plays, understanding team dynamics, adapting to flow, sensing momentum shifts, knowing your assignment and anticipating where things are going next.

Then there’s context: the score, the clock, your shift length, opponent tendencies, energy level, where you are in the season, what’s happened earlier in the game. That’s real-time game management.

And unifying the three rings is the self. Honest self-awareness. Knowing what you’re great at and what you’re not. Making decisions that serve the team, not your ego. Owning your role, even if it’s not the one you want. Trusting the system. Holding yourself accountable even when the mistake wasn’t fully yours. That’s the heartbeat of hockey IQ.

Visually, we can picture hockey IQ as follows:

And here’s the kicker—these aren’t stages you walk through. These layers are simultaneous. They spin together. The highest IQ players? They don’t think about each layer in order. They line them up instantly, like dials clicking into place. And when they do? The game slows down. It clicks. It flows.

It’s not just cognition anymore—it’s rhythm.  A lot of players commented on ‘being in the present’.  There was no prefrontal cortex activation, it was feeling all of the circles at once:

This isn’t something you just drill into a kid with reps, privates and whiteboards. This is about training awareness. Pattern recognition. Self-honesty. Accountability. 

In the area I am in, players are doing countless hours of skill work.  And, I am starting to wonder if the over-emphasis on skill development at a young age is encumbering hockey IQ development.  For example, players may not need to think at the U8 and U10 level because they have a short-term skill advantage over other players (one that erodes as they matriculate through U12, U14 etc).  

Hockey IQ vs. Cognitive IQ — What Coaches Need to Understand

One of the most revealing insights that came from these conversations was this: hockey IQ isn’t distributed equally, just like cognitive IQ. Some players naturally process information faster, read plays more intuitively, and make better decisions under pressure.

But just like with academic intelligence, hockey IQ isn’t fixed.

A kid who holds onto the puck too long may not be selfish — they might simply be struggling to read the game in real time. That doesn’t mean they can’t contribute. If they’re passionate, coachable, and held accountable, they can develop awareness, improve pattern recognition, and become a smarter, more impactful player.  We hope our daily/weekly problem solving scenarios will help those players.

The takeaway? Coaches need to understand that not every player sees the ice the same way — and that’s okay. Our job isn’t just to drill skills, but to teach thinking. To build hockey intelligence just like you’d develop any other form of problem-solving.

Patience. Guidance. Accountability.

With those in place, even a player who’s not the fastest thinker can still become one of the smartest players on the ice.

A heartfelt thank you to all the hockey minds who generously shared their time, stories, and insights to help shape this framework. I might be the one putting words to it, but the real structure — the bones of this model — comes from those who’ve lived it at the highest levels.

Find. A. Way.

— Greg

Related: Mental Training for Youth Hockey Players — how focus and mental rehearsal work alongside Hockey IQ development.

See all resources: Hockey Parents Resource Guide

The post The Unifying Theory in Defining Hockey IQ 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.

Pretty soon I was knee-deep in physics, breaking down the difference between on-ice and off-ice acceleration so we could visualize it clearly and help young athletes understand why it matters for their game.

And here’s the big takeaway:
Acceleration on skates is not the same thing as acceleration in sneakers.
Not even close.

Understanding that difference can completely change how a kid reads the game, positions themselves, and makes decisions under pressure.

Let’s dig in.

1. The Physics Are Completely Different

Off the ice — running on turf — you have something incredibly valuable on your side:

 Grip. High friction. Instant response.
You plant your foot, push hard, and the ground gives you exactly what you put into it.

On the ice?

 Low friction and glide.
The skate blade slides before it bites, forcing you to use edge angles, hip rotation, and controlled pressure to generate force.

This is why a kid who looks explosive in sneakers might not look explosive on the ice — and why another kid who looks average during dryland suddenly becomes electric when the blades hit the sheet.

2. A Simple Comparison: Runner on Turf vs. Skater on Ice

To really make this clear, let’s compare the same movement:

A full-speed stop → turn → re-acceleration back to full speed

We’ll assume both the runner and skater approach at the same speed (6 m/s, about 13.4 mph).

Runner on Turf

• High friction (µ ≈ 0.8)
• Can stop fast and push off again almost instantly
• Total stop+go time: ≈ 1.5 seconds
• Distance needed to complete stop+go: ≈ 4.6 meters

Skater on Ice

• Even in a strong hockey stop, friction is much lower (µ ≈ 0.3)
• Takes longer to create enough bite to decelerate
• Total stop+go time: ≈ 4.1 seconds
• Distance needed: ≈ 12.2 meters

In other words:

A skater needs about 3× more time and 3× more space to perform the same stop-and-go as a runner.

That difference affects every read, angle, and decision in hockey.

Here’s the visual we created to make this clear: 

In the coming weeks we’ll explore how the most effective zone entry tool in U8 hockey — the toe drag — becomes a handicap at older ages unless players understand transition times. Without adapting to changes in momentum, timing, and space, what once worked effortlessly can actually disrupt team flow and create vulnerabilities.

Find. A. Way.

Greg

The Grit Kore Project.

The post Why On-Ice vs. Off-Ice Acceleration Matters More Than You Think first appeared on Grit Kore.