The Hockey Pyramid

Is the Hockey Pyramid Still a Pyramid?

Maybe the question isn't how high your player can climb. Maybe it's where they will actually develop.

I have been thinking about this one for a while.

And before anyone starts sharpening their pitchforks, let me get something out of the way:

I am not anti-travel hockey.

Travel hockey has an important place in player development. There are players who absolutely need the additional competition, pace, commitment, coaching and challenge that travel provides.

But lately I have found myself asking a different question:

Are we still using travel hockey as a developmental level, or has it simply become the expected next step?

Those are two very different things.

And if our goal is truly player development, I think it's a question worth asking.

The Hockey Pyramid

For years, we have talked about hockey development like a pyramid.

At the bottom is recreational or house hockey. From there we move into advanced house, select opportunities, travel, AA, AAA and eventually the very small percentage of players who continue beyond youth hockey.

As you move up the pyramid, the number of players should get smaller.

That's kind of how pyramids work.

I'm no architect, but if the top starts getting as wide as the bottom, eventually we probably need to call it something else.

And that's what has me thinking.

Our hockey community has grown tremendously, which is fantastic. More kids playing hockey is something we should all celebrate.

But travel hockey has grown tremendously too.

At some point we need to ask whether the growth of travel is coming entirely from an increase in high-level players—or whether we're simply moving more of the middle of the pyramid toward the top.

Because there is an important distinction between moving a player up a level and developing a player.

They aren't automatically the same thing.

House Hockey Matters

I love house hockey.

That probably isn't going to shock anyone who knows me.

But I don't love it because I think every player should stay there forever.

Quite the opposite.

One of the most rewarding parts of coaching is watching a player develop beyond what you can offer them. Eventually there should come a point where some players need faster competition, different coaching or another environment to continue being challenged.

When that happens, we should celebrate it.

But house hockey isn't supposed to be the place players stay until they're good enough to leave.

House hockey is where hockey players are built.

It's where a player learns to skate with their head up.

It's where they learn to protect a puck.

It's where they try a move they've been practicing and completely mess it up.

It's where they learn positioning, passing, shooting, competing, recovering from mistakes and being part of a team.

And most importantly:

They get to play hockey.

That sounds ridiculously obvious.

But I think we've started overlooking how important that last part is.

Development Requires Opportunity

Recently, I received a call from a parent whose player had made a travel team.

They were excited when the player made it. Making a travel roster feels like an accomplishment—and it is.

But after a recent game, that excitement had turned into frustration.

Their player received two shifts.

Total ice time?

Less than one minute.

Now, before we grab the torches and go after the coach, understand something:

That's part of competitive hockey.

Travel hockey does not necessarily promise equal ice time. Coaches are trying to win games. There are depth charts. There are special teams. There are stronger and weaker players.

That's the environment the family signed up for.

But it made me ask a different question.

What did that player develop during that game?

That's not rhetorical.

Think about it.

What was the developmental return on that hour at the rink?

Maybe the practices are phenomenal.

Maybe the coaching is fantastic.

Maybe skating every week against those teammates is exactly what that player needs.

If so, great.

But we should at least be willing to ask the question.

Because what if that player stayed in house for one more season?

What if instead of two shifts, they played 15 minutes?

What if they took faceoffs?

Played defense?

Killed a penalty?

Carried the puck through the neutral zone?

Made a terrible turnover?

Recovered from it?

Scored a goal?

Missed an open net?

Played the final two minutes protecting a one-goal lead?

Those are repetitions too.

Those are development.

What Are We Actually Investing In?

Travel hockey isn't cheap.

Once we include registration, jerseys, hotels, tournaments, gas, meals and everything else that somehow finds its way onto the credit card, families can invest thousands of dollars into a season.

So let's conduct a little thought experiment.

Say the total commitment is $4,000–$5,000.

What if a player who is sitting toward the bottom of a travel roster spent one more year in a competitive house environment?

Then take some of that same money and invest it directly into development.

Power skating.

Small-group instruction.

Shooting lessons.

Clinics.

Stick-and-puck.

Maybe some private coaching focused specifically on that player's weaknesses.

Now give that player significant game ice, hundreds more puck touches, opportunities in different situations and another year to physically and mentally develop.

Which option creates the better hockey player twelve months from now?

I don't know.

And that's the point.

There isn't one answer.

For one player, travel might win that comparison by a mile.

For another, another year of house hockey combined with focused training might be exactly what they needed.

The question shouldn't be:

"Can my player make travel?"

The question should be:

"Where will my player develop the most?"

But We're Losing Something Else Too

This is the part of the conversation I don't hear discussed nearly enough.

When a talented player leaves house hockey, sometimes we lose more than one player.

We lose a hockey family.

And hockey families often become hockey coaches.

Think about how youth hockey actually works.

Every year, new players walk through the rink doors.

Some can barely stand on their skates.

Some don't know which end of the stick goes on the ice.

Some are wearing equipment that looks like it was put on by a NASCAR pit crew working blindfolded.

And I love every second of it.

Those kids need coaches.

Lots of them.

Meanwhile, many of our experienced hockey families are moving into travel programs as their children advance.

So when 20 or 30 experienced players leave a house division, we didn't necessarily lose only 20 or 30 players.

Maybe we also lost several assistant coaches.

Maybe we lost a couple of parents capable of running stations.

Maybe we lost a head coach.

Maybe we lost the person who had been helping two newer coaches learn how to teach skating.

And suddenly the developmental base gets a little thinner.

Coaches Have to Develop Too

I will almost never turn away someone willing to help me on the ice.

Youth hockey desperately needs volunteers.

We need the parent willing to open doors.

We need someone keeping kids organized on the bench.

We need the assistant reinforcing what we're teaching.

We need the person who finally says:

"I don't really know what I'm doing, Coach, but I'll help."

Good.

Get out here.

We'll figure it out together.

Because today's door opener might be tomorrow's assistant coach.

And three years from now, that person might be running their own team.

Coaches develop too.

That's something we sometimes forget.

There is a difference between helping coach hockey and knowing how to teach hockey skills.

Teaching edge control is a skill.

Recognizing poor body positioning is a skill.

Correcting a player's stride is a skill.

Running a station with six players of completely different abilities is absolutely a skill.

Building a practice where 15 kids stay engaged instead of having 12 kids standing around watching three kids touch the puck?

Believe me.

That's a skill.

And those things take time to learn.

We understand that an eight-year-old isn't going to master their edges after three practices.

Yet sometimes we hand an adult who has never played hockey a whistle, a clipboard and six kids and essentially say:

"All right, teach them crossovers. You've got seven minutes. Good luck!"

Then we're surprised when development becomes inconsistent.

That's not the volunteer's fault.

That's a development problem.

Maybe There Are Actually Two Pyramids

This is where my thinking on this has changed.

We always talk about the player-development pyramid.

House.

Advanced.

Select.

Travel.

AA.

AAA.

But underneath that pyramid is another one we rarely talk about.

The coaching pyramid.

New volunteers become bench coaches.

Bench coaches become assistants.

Assistants learn to run stations.

They begin understanding practice design.

Some eventually become head coaches.

Experienced head coaches mentor the next group.

And around and around it goes.

At least, that's how it should work.

Because you cannot build a strong player-development pyramid without a strong coaching-development pyramid underneath it.

If we continually remove experienced hockey families from house hockey as quickly as their players develop, eventually we have to ask:

Who is teaching the next group?

And maybe even more importantly:

Who is teaching the people who are teaching the next group?

The Goal Isn't Keeping Players in House

I want to be really clear about this.

The answer isn't artificially keeping talented players in house hockey.

That doesn't help anyone either.

If a player has genuinely outgrown their environment, challenge them.

Move them.

Find better competition.

Put them somewhere uncomfortable enough that they have to grow.

That's development.

But somewhere along the way, I think youth sports have started confusing advancement with development.

Moving up isn't automatically progress.

Making travel isn't automatically progress.

Playing AAA isn't automatically progress.

Progress is progress.

Is the player skating better?

Are they making faster decisions?

Are they stronger on the puck?

Are they learning to compete?

Are they becoming more confident?

Are they getting meaningful repetitions?

Are coaches correcting their weaknesses?

Are they learning from mistakes?

And here's one I don't think we ask enough:

Are they playing?

Take the Logo Off the Jersey

Here's a challenge for parents.

Imagine nobody was allowed to know what level your child played.

No social media posts.

No travel jacket.

No helmet stickers.

No tournament pictures.

Nobody at school knows.

Nobody at work knows.

The grandparents don't know.

The only information you're allowed to use is what happens when your player walks into the rink.

How much are they playing?

How much are they learning?

How much individual instruction are they receiving?

Are they challenged?

Are they overwhelmed?

Are they confident?

Are they afraid to make mistakes?

Are they excited to go to practice?

And when the season ends:

Are they a better hockey player than when it started?

Now choose their developmental environment.

Would you make the same choice?

Maybe you would.

Fantastic.

Then you're probably exactly where you need to be.

But if that question makes you hesitate, maybe it's worth looking a little deeper.

What's Best FOR THE PLAYER?

That's where I keep landing.

Not what's best for the organization.

Not what's best for the coach.

Not what looks best on Instagram.

Not what another parent says their kid is doing.

What is best for the player?

Sometimes that means travel.

Sometimes that means advanced house.

Sometimes it means another year of regular house hockey and some additional training.

Sometimes it means doing absolutely nothing different and simply allowing a ten-year-old to be a ten-year-old who loves playing hockey.

There isn't a universal roadmap.

And there shouldn't be.

Our job as coaches and parents isn't to get a child to the highest level as quickly as possible.

Our job is to help them become the best hockey player—and person—they are capable of becoming while hopefully making sure they still love this game when we're finished.

So maybe instead of asking:

"What team can my player make next year?"

We start with a different question.

"Where will my player develop the most?"

Because if we want stronger travel hockey tomorrow, we need stronger developmental hockey today.

We need house programs that challenge players.

We need pathways between recreational hockey and full travel commitments.

We need experienced coaches mentoring new coaches.

We need talented hockey families staying connected to grassroots hockey even after their own children advance.

And we need to recognize that the base of the pyramid isn't something players should be racing to escape.

It's what holds everything else up.

Travel hockey develops the top of the pyramid.

House hockey builds the pyramid.

And maybe it's time we started treating it that way.

— Coach Wes
Fundamental Hockey Academy