Chapter EIGHT

There is something special that happens when you watch a child learn something for the very first time. It is not loud. It is not flashy. It is not broadcast anywhere. It lives in small moments that only a few people get to see. A stumble. A push. A look of determination. A smile that grows slowly over weeks. That is where confidence begins. Not in arenas. Not in championships. In the quiet effort of trying again.

Coaching the Timbits this season reminded me of that truth in a way I did not expect. It is one thing to talk about community and belonging and opportunity. It is another to stand on the ice and actually watch it unfold in real time. Some of these kids could barely stand on their skates on the first day. They grabbed the boards for balance. They moved cautiously and looked unsure of every step. But week after week, something changed. They began to carry the puck. They began to pass. They began to chase plays instead of watching them. They began to believe in themselves.

It happens slowly at first. Little steps. Little wins. The kind that only a parent or a coach notices. Then one day, something clicks. A kid who struggled to move forward carries the puck end to end. A kid who barely touched the puck scores their first goal. The entire rink feels it. The room fills with the kind of joy that only comes from watching someone grow in front of you. The smile on their face says everything.

Then there is the net. In this league everyone gets the chance to play goalie. It is the position most kids fear at first. The equipment feels huge. The pads feel heavy. The stance feels strange. Some of these kids can barely get back up after they fall. But they try anyway. They kneel into the crease with determination in their eyes. They look at you with a mix of nerves and excitement. And even when the gear looks bigger than they are, something inside them refuses to quit.

That is the part that stays with you.
The courage.
The heart.
The willingness to face something scary and try anyway.

There is one moment that still lives in my mind. A little goalie, barely steady on their feet, ready to face the puck for the first time. They fell. They got up. They fell again. They got up again. They kept looking straight ahead, ready for the next shot. The parents watched with pride. The teammates cheered. Everyone in the rink felt the effort. That moment said more about sports than any score ever could.

Progression is everything. Watching these kids grow over months is one of the most humbling and grateful experiences I have ever had. The look on their faces when they score their first goal is pure magic. It is not about the goal itself. It is about the belief that suddenly appears inside them. It is about realizing they can do something they never thought they could. And when you hand them the game puck, the smile that breaks across their face is a reminder of why sport exists in the first place.

What surprised me most was watching the parents. The pride in their eyes. The excitement in their voices. The gratitude that their kids have a place to try and fail and try again. The joy of seeing their children make progress that seems impossible in the first week of the season. Parents are part of the heartbeat of youth sport. They feel every small victory just as deeply as the kids do.

These moments matter. These moments shape confidence. These moments build character. And these moments rarely get seen outside the rink. That is why this movement matters. This is what MyStreakers is built around. Not numbers. Not predictions. Not pressure. Opportunity. Progress. Courage. The belief that every child deserves a place to grow. The belief that every family deserves a place to celebrate those tiny milestones that turn into lifelong memories.

We want a world where every kid can try something new without fear of failure. A world where communities can support their own teams without worrying about cost. A world where coaches can celebrate effort. A world where parents can see their child’s progression, even when they are at work or on the road. A world where local moments matter as much as the big leagues. A world where the first goal and the first save have a place to live.

This season reminded me why we built this movement in the first place. It is not about technology. It is about people. It is about watching a child find their confidence. It is about seeing families come together. It is about giving communities the tools to grow and belong. It is about the spark that appears in a kid’s eyes when they realize they can do something they could not do last week.

This is the future of sport.
Not louder.
Not faster.
Not bigger.
But closer.

Closer to the kids learning to skate.
Closer to the parents celebrating every tiny step.
Closer to the communities that refuse to let the spark fade.
Closer to the heart of why we play.

Play local. Follow global. The next streak begins with them.